Nuvalmet Lain!
by Scooby Wannabe
Summary: XOver w LotR. Part 1 of the Echor Uin Cuil Series. With the First defeated and the Potentials activated, the Scoobies look forward to a normal life. But the Powers have other plans. The battle for Earth is over. The war for MiddleEarth has yet to begin.
1. The Strange State of Ohio

Disclaimer: I so wish. But, alas, Lord of the Rings belongs to JRR Tolkien and all his people, and Buffy the Vampire Slayer belongs to Joss Whedon and all his people. Me and my people have nothing but legos and pipe dreams.

Author's Notes: Okay. Please, don't laugh at this, I know it's been done. This will be based on both the movie and the book. The title is in Quenya (in theory) and (very loosely) translated means "We Will Be Free". I also attempt to put my (very limited and pathetic) Sindarin to use in this. I know it's not 100%, but give me a break, it's not that easy. Hope you guys like!

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--Willow's POV--

I swear to the Powers That Be, our lives don't even resemble anything close to fair. We give and give and give and…guess what?…we give even more, and what do we get? Nothing!

Now, wait, I guess that's not really completely honest. We do get things back. BIG HONKIN' BUTTLOADS OF PAIN!!! Never a good moment in our lives, never an easy path. Everything has to be hard and painful for us. And I mean us. Not just me, but every last one of them, too.

You'd think the battle with the first was enough. Didn't we suffer enough through that? Oh, no. Like I said, it's never enough. So Xander lost an eye? So what? He lives, which was better than Spike. At the time.

I guess most people would count Spike's miraculous resurrection as good. But was it really? No! Poor guy. He'd finally found the perfect redemption, a way to give of himself so selflessly to earn that salvation known as peace, and it had been torn from him so completely. He'd appeared in that damned white light from the Hellmouth, completely human, completely new, and he'd cried. Wept for the escape he had lost.

All alone were we, on that bus filled with those young girls. I believed then that that loneliness was the worst in the world. I was wrong. The loneliness that had come as one by one, those girls left us for their own Watchers the newly reformed Council had assigned them was much worse. It was just us. Just the gang, together and alone again. Loneliness that was welcomed.

Giles took over driving the old school bus after we dropped off Principal Wood at his cousin's place in Los Angeles. I sat in the seat behind him, watching as the plane that (probably did not though I liked to pretend it did) carry the decidedly too-young-for-me Kennedy fly farther and farther away towards her Watcher. Xander was sprawled across two separate seats, taking in some much needed rest after all the chaos. Dawn was bopping giddily to whatever she was listening over her headphones, happily oblivious to the rest of the world. Buffy was more peaceful than I had seen her in years. She was discussing some type of legal working with Faith, who had been technically exonerated by the Council, although her eyes still held the haunted depths of an unforgiven soul. Spike was brooding in the back of the bus.

We were on our way to a small town in Connecticut by way of Ohio. Faith was dedicating her life to the cause, going to take the role of Head Slayer in Cleveland with three other girls who were recently Chosen. Buffy, armed with a glowing recommendation from Robin, was going to work in a small rural town where she could lose herself to a peaceful life and Dawn could grow up happy. Xander and I were going to stay with them for awhile, unsure of where to go with our freed lives. We weren't sure what to do with Spike, though he would be going to Connecticut as well. Giles was retiring away back to Britain as soon as we were settled.

We were happy. That should have been my first tip that life was about to take a sucky turn. Not only were we happy, but we thought we were finally done. Free. Free to live the lives so long denied us. Of course things were too good to be true.

Maybe it was fate. Maybe it was another twist thrown at us by those evil beings that attest to fighting for the light. Whatever it was, whoever sent it, whatever the cause, it was just plain cruel. And had nothing to do with anything supernatural. It was human stupidity that started this.

Drunk driving.

Don't get me wrong. I drive. I've been known to let loose when I really need it. But I've never been driving while I was loosed. Not even in a less-than-sober state am I that stupid. But, apparently, the guy in front of us was.

Giles, being the driver, had noticed it first. It had been a fairly deserted highway at that hour. The road had wound through the Ohio countryside for miles, devoid of all life except the beautiful farmland that rolled on at both sides of the road. It had just been our strange school bus and that beat-up Ford pickup. 

"Willow," Giles had called softly, mindful of the napping Xander.

Looking away from the small airplane that dotted the sky, I had turned my attention to him, smiling brightly. "What can I do you for, Giles?"

He had motioned with his head in front of us, towards the little truck. "What do you see?"

I had stared at the truck for several moments, unsure of what Giles had wanted from me. Then I had noticed the variation in speed the pickup seemed to travel at, seventy miles an hour one moment, twenty the next. Then I had seen the swerving. Great big swerves, left, right, left, right. The delayed reaction to the curves in the road, the potholes and breaks in pavement taken at too fast a speed.

I had sighed. "Drunk."

Giles had nodded, shifting down as he slowed to turn off the road. "That's what I thought. Have Buffy and Faith put up their windows, we'll be stopping here for a few minutes."

I had nodded back to him my understanding, rising from my seat to relay the message to the sister-Slayers. Then it happened.

Buffy had stopped talking with Faith to watch me approach them. Her expression had instantly gone into one of horror. She had jumped to her feet, reaching for me with wide panicked eyes. "Willow, watch out!"

Xander, who had been jolted from sleep by the frantic cry, shot up. He had blinked towards me sleepily, then had immediately sprung to full-awareness, his eyes also wide.

"Giles!" Faith had shouted the same time Buffy had reached for me.

Dawn and Spike had looked up, both going from peeved to confused to terrified in an instant.

I had turned to glance back at Giles at Buffy's frightened look. But I had never seen Giles. I had just seen headlights, an explosion, and the fire. My brain had shutdown, only registering the fact that we'd never be able to slow down in time at the speed we were traveling.

I closed my eyes, bracing myself against one of the seats for the impact. This is what I think as I prepare for my death: it's not fair.

The impact came with a vengeance.

My friends…well, my family, really… screamed around me. I hit hard, the light of the explosion nearly blinding me even though my eyes were closed. Pain flared up and down my left arm as the bones gave way with a sickening crunch. My head hit as well, though the intense burning at my skin caused me not to register the impact as much as I was my arm. I knew the heat was the flames, knew that I was burning alive, knew that the fire was licking at my skin. I screamed in pain at the feeling, dreading the painful death I knew was coming.

Then it faded. It was still there, but instead of the intense heat, all my skin did was tingle. Sort of like the little tingle I usually got when I did magic, only intensified a hundred fold. My arm still hurt, and badly, enough for me to fear passing out from the pain. And since I no longer had the burning alive thing to worry about, I noticed the pounding in my head.

I whimpered, burrowing my aching head deeper into the soft grass beneath me. Wait…grass?

My eyes fluttered open, my foggy vision clearing enough for me to get a good look around. I was no longer in the bus. I was in a clearing. In the woods. Without a flaming bus/pickup truck inferno in sight.

It occurred to me that it was a very pretty clearing. The trees around were old and tall, golden leaves hanging from their winding branches. The sun was shining softly, warming the air around, but not burning too brightly or too warm. The grass was like feathers, long, cool, and soft, pillowing around me, cradling me.

I shakily propped myself up on my right elbow, my strength teetering dangerously on failing. I was not alone.

Buffy was lying next to me, body bruised and battered. Faith was sprawled out at her feet, legs sticking out at sharp, unnatural angles, breath drawn in frighteningly shallow gasps. Giles was a few feet away, a bloody gash running down the right side of his face from forehead to jaw, arms clearly broken since I could see both bones poking out of his skin. Xander was at the opposite side of the clearing with the broken form of Spike, their injuries not visible to me from that distance. And Dawn, Little Dawny, the younger teen was a bloody mass a few yards away. Everyone, save me, was unconscious.

I knew I had to get help. It was my mission. I couldn't let my friends die, not when we were so close to that normal life we had dreamed of for so long. But, goddess, my body would not work. It was too painful, too much. It was no good.

Gasping in pain, my working arm gave out. Whimpering ever so slightly, my eyes closing against the light, I rolled onto my back, willing myself to get up.

Then I felt the cold, sharp tip of something metal pressed against my throbbing forehead. I froze, biting my lip to keep from crying out at the sensation of the weapon.

"Man nalye?" a musical, but very masculine, voice asked (I could tell it was a question by the intonation of the voice).

I consider myself many things, among those things a gifted researcher, refined by years as a Scooby. To be a decent researcher, one has to be familiar, though not necessarily fluent, in several different languages. I had never heard anything like this one.

"Nalye edaino?" the voice asked, a bit more firmly.

I was shaking. I knew I was, but I was not ashamed. I was badly injured, fairly frightened, extremely shaken, and being accosted by some man, presumably some Buckeye, who spoke a very strange language. If not for the weapon, I would have considered the possibility of the man being Amish, but since I knew the Amish were opposed to weapons, I didn't think so. This is why I decided to open my eyes.

I let my eyelids slide open very slowly, conscious of my hands and where they were. I cradled my injured left arm against my stomach, but made sure it was in plain sight, holding my right arm up in surrender. My captor acknowledged this act of surrender, letting up some, though no all, of the pressure against my forehead. Emboldened, I let my eyes open more quickly.

The man before me was the strangest man I had ever seen. Armed with a bow, arrow notched and aimed straight at my head, his dress was very old and very strange. His hair was long, much longer than was fashionable for men, falling past his shoulders. He wore a tunic of grey and green, weaved unlike any I had ever seen. He wore some kind of leggings or something and I think his shoulders were wrapped in a cloak. At that point, my vision was blurring, my thoughts beginning to jumble in my head.

"What…where…who?" I whimpered pathetically, feeling the last of my strength leaving me.

I got in one last good look before my vision blacked out. Several more of the strangely dressed guys, all armed to the teeth with bows and arrows, were milling about, kneeling next to my friends. I shook my head weakly as I sunk lower and lower into blessed unconsciousness. "No…they need…help…"

And then I was drifting, away from the strange men and the clearing. The little strength I had was gone and would not return until I was able to get many hours of rest. As I drifted off, I heard the strange man say one last thing.

"Toltho i hir a i híril. Avorno! I ardhon prestanneth!"

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A/N: (Very loosely) Translated, the elvish reads:

Man nalye?-- Who art thou? (Quenya)

Nalye edaino?-- Art thou of men? (Quenya)

Toltho i hir a i híril. Avorno! I ardhon prestanneth!-- Fetch the lord and lady. Fast! The world is changing! (Mostly Sindarin)


	2. Waking to a Dream

A/N:  Wow.  I can't believe the number of reviews I got in just two days.  Some of my things have been up for weeks and months and have little to none.  And I didn't expect this one to get any at all.  Fourteen reviews!  And not one of them a flame!  Big hugs to you all!  Seriously! (Can you tell I'm review deprived?)

Okay, down to business.  First, this story is going to be a cross between movie-based and book-based.  **Book people**:  Get out those appendixes.  The year the Scoobies have crashed into is 2979 of the Third Age.  I'll be following the timeline as closely as possible up to the Great Years, then I'm switching to the movie, mostly because it is easier to follow, and you know it (ducks large objects thrown her way).  **Movie people**: This will not be hard for you to follow, I promise.  I'll keep things very explainable.  Basically, at this point, the Scoobies have fallen into Middle-Earth about 39 years before where the movies pick up.  Everyone is basically just living in their own little places, though bad stuff is starting to be a bit of a problem.  Aragorn knows who he is and is a Ranger.  Bilbo has the Ring tucked away in the Shire.  Basically all you need to know.

**IMPORTANT**:  The books did exist for the Scoobies, but the movies DID NOT!  I repeat, there were no movies out in Sunnydale, just the books (which means a lot of the Scoobs will have no clue what's going on).  Oh, and I'll provide translations of Sindarin and Quenya in parenthesis after it's said.  And **Briana Marie**, please, don't be impressed with my Sindarin.  It's _really_ bad.  The grammar's off and some things don't translate right.  But if anyone wants the little information I have on Sindarin, drop me a line.  I'll email it right to you.

Oh, and for those of you wondering about the POV thing (specifically **Lisette **and **I'll Never Tell**), it'll alternate.  Every odd chapter will be from a different persons POV.  Next up is Celeborn.

Oh, and to **cambrils**, I regret to inform you that this will not be a Buffy/Legolas ship fic.  I just don't see them together.  Buffy is too…what's the word…bitchy.  (Sorry, not much of a Buffy, the character, fan).  Yes, there are ships, but not that one.  I don't want to say just yet because I really don't want to blow the plot, but if anyone really **has** to know (this is for you **FiCtIoNfAn**), email me or leave you address in a review and I'll let you know.

By the way, anyone see Pirates of the Caribbean?  Anyone else melt at the sight of Orlando Bloom in the feather hat?  My best friend had an asthma attack!  Wonderful movie, not really for kids!  Go see!

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--Third Person--

The moment Willow opened her eyes she knew she had died.  The pain was gone, replaced by a warmth she had never felt before.  She was in the softest bed she had ever dared dream of.   She seemed to be in a room built on a tree branch.  Everything was shining around her.  A beautiful song was being sung somewhere nearby.  She had to be dead, for this sure felt like heaven.

"Willow?"

Willow blinked lazily, shifting slightly on the exquisite bed to come face to face with… "Buffy!"

Buffy was lying in her own soft bed, looking tired and a little worse for wear.  She smiled brightly at the redhead, though her eyes were tired.  "Willow!  Are you all right?"

Willow moved to push herself in a sitting position when she noticed her left arm was wrapped in a strange lacy bandage.  Her arm didn't hurt and was apparently no longer broken, but it was still a strange sight.  Willow frowned, her heaven theory shot.  "I'm fine."  Then she noticed the deep bruises on Buffy's cheek.  "What about you?"

"Perfect," she replied with a shrug, oblivious to the healing purple mark.  Then she frowned at Willow, examining her closely.  "Are you sure?  You don't look so good."

"I could say the same to you," Willow pointed out with a small smile.  "But I feel fine."

Buffy nodded, turning to examine the tree-room-thing.  It appeared to be a bedroom, suspended from the branches of two humongous trees.  The only things resembling furniture were the beds and small chair-like trunks with clothing piled on top.  The beds themselves were more like glowing cradles without the bars on the sides.  The only entrance to the room was a small arch that had flowing drapes closed around it.  The walls themselves were more like balconies, and had their own heavy drapes to keep out the rest of the world.  Buffy and Willow's beds lined the tree to the left of the arch.  The wall to the right was lined with two different beds.

Buffy scowled, worried, pushing her warm-looking blanket aside.  "Dawn--"

"Buffy, don't," Willow called out softly, effectively stopping her friend from running to her sister's aid.

Buffy bit her lip and looked to where Dawn and Faith were both sleeping peacefully.  "But--"

"They're resting," Willow replied firmly, shaking her head.  "They look like they need it, too."

Buffy nodded reluctantly, then continued with her inspection of their surroundings.  "Where are we?"

Willow shrugged, running her hand through her short red hair.  "My first guess was heaven, but I don't think broken arms and bruised faces exist in heaven."

"Nope," Buffy replied playfully.  "I've been to heaven, remember?  This ain't it."

Willow nodded and shakily rose to her feet, stumbling over to a curtain to take a peak.  It was dark outside, suggesting night, but she could still see plainly like she could inside the room, though it was lit by candles.  The outside seemed to be lit with…glowing creatures.  Willow squinted at the nearest glow, trying to make it out.  After a few minutes of little success, she gave up.  Then something occurred to her, causing her to look up sharply.

Buffy noticed.  "What are you thinking?"

"I think we're missing Xander, Spike, and Giles," Willow replied, a little panicked.

Buffy's eyes went wide, then immediately went back to searching the room as if the men would magically appear.  "Oh, man!  Not good!"

"Not at all," Willow agreed as she began pacing.  "We gotta find them and get out of here."

Buffy threw off her covers and jumped out of bed, without the shakiness her friend had exhibited.  "Why the rush to leave?"

"Well, I don't think this is any hospital I've ever heard of in Ohio," Willow explained quickly as she made her way over to the archway.  "And we ruled out heaven.  Those are the only two places I have any interest in being."

"Red, do you mind?  I've just been in a car crash."

Willow froze, then turned and rushed to the brunette sitting up in her bed.

Buffy smiled and joined the pair, sitting down on the foot of her sister-Slayer's bed.  "How are you feeling, Faith?"

"Like I was in a car crash," Faith replied dryly, pushing the covers off and swinging her legs around to test them.  "Huh.  I was sure I broke these.  Anyways, I'm five by five, B."

Willow nodded with a sheepish grin.  "Sorry for waking you."

"You should be," Dawn muttered as she sat up beside them.

Buffy immediately switched beds.  "Dawn, are you--"

"I'm fine," Dawn interrupted drowsily, examining her bandaged right hand.  "Been better.  Been a hell of a lot worse."

Buffy frowned.  "Language."

Dawn ignored her, turning to look around.  "Where are we?"

Faith wrinkled her nose as she looked down at herself.  "More importantly, why am I in a prom dress?"

Buffy, Willow, and Dawn all blinked in surprise as they all suddenly realized that they were no longer in their shirts and jeans.  Those were gone, replaced by simple full-length velvet gowns with long bell-sleeves in various shades of color.  Willow's was a soft forest green, Buffy's was ice-blue, Dawn's was butter-yellow, and Faith's was something between pink and red.  Their shoes were also gone, leaving them barefoot.

Dawn shifted in her own dress, giving the disgusted looking Faith a weak grin.  "It's very pretty on you."

Faith's frown deepened as she touched a hand to her hair.  It spilled down her back as usual, but had the sides pulled back in a clip in back.  Willow, Dawn, and Buffy's hair was similarly pulled back.  Faith sighed in resignation.  "What do you guys remember?"

"Impending death by incineration, then pain, then squishy bed," Dawn recounted as she pushed back her bedcovers.  "You?"

"Same," Faith muttered, tugging at the high neckline of her dress.

Buffy nodded, grabbing Dawn's bandaged hand to examine it herself.  "Mind's a blank."

"I think I blacked out, but I came to in the middle of a forest," Willow murmured, straining her memory.  "There were weird looking guys with bows and arrows around.  They talked funny."

"Haldir spoke to you in our native tongue.  He was unaware that you speak in Common Tongue."

The four girls all jumped to their feet, Faith trying to step into a fighting stance, but failing miserably as she tripped on the long hem of her dress.  Willow grabbed the dark-haired Slayer, steadying her quickly, then turned to examine the people gliding…yes, they were gliding…into the room.

Most of the people entering were young men, dressed similarly as the man in the forest had been.  They all were armed with longbows, but had them stored on their backs with their quivers of arrows.  No less than eight of these men entered, followed by a commanding looking man in flowing white and silver robes and a beautiful woman, the one who had spoken so musically, in a white lacy dress cut similar to the ones the girls were wearing.  All were tall and graceful looking.  All had flowing blonde hair, except for the woman, whose hair was more golden.  All were looking at them with curious, but neutral expressions.

Buffy, Willow, Dawn, and Faith just stared at their visitors, none sure of what to say.  Finally, Faith sputtered, "Tongues?  Isn't that some sort of holy-rollers, honk-if-you-love-Jesus thing?"

The woman's eyes narrowed slightly and she turned her head slightly to the side as if trying to remember something.  "I do not quite understand your meaning."

Faith waved a hand dismissively.  "Forget it."

The commanding-looking man's cold blue eyes swept over them analytically before he gestured to himself, the woman, and one of the men standing directly behind them.  "I am Lord Celeborn.  This is my lady, Galadriel, Lady of Light, and this is Haldir, Captain of Lórien."

Willow's eyes opened wide at the sight of the strange man.  "You're the guy that was going to shoot me!"

The man, or Haldir, looked at Willow down his nose.  "It is but my duty to protect these lands.  Three men and four women, all clad in foreign garments, falling from the sky into our wood is not a common occurrence."

"Where are we?" Buffy asked, a note of authority in her voice.

"You are in the woods of Lothlórien, in the city of Caras Galadhon," Lord Celeborn answered, motioning to the trees with one hand.

"How far are we from Cleveland?" Buffy asked in concern as if she had no clue where Lothlórien or Caras Galadhon was.

Faith rolled her eyes at the blonde.  "Yo, Toto, I think we're not in Ohio anymore."

"Why do you say that, Dorothy?" Buffy grumbled, annoyed.

"Well, aside from the obvious duh factor, these guys have pointy ears," Faith said slowly as if speaking to a child, pointing at Celeborn's ears.  Sure enough, they were pointed.  "Never seen pointy ears anywhere except on that Spock guy."

The corners of Galadriel's lips twitched into a small smile as Dawn grabbed Faith's still-pointing finger and shoved it back down.  "All of the Eldar are blessed with ears unlike those of mortal men."

"Tell me, Lady Dorothy, is Lord Spock from the land of Ohio?" Celeborn asked curiously.

Faith frowned, unsure of how to reply politely.  "Um…"

"Her name's not Dorothy, it's Faith," Buffy answered gently from the brunette's side.  "I'm Buffy, Buffy Summers, and that's my sister Dawn.  This is Willow Rosenberg."

Willow smiled warmly when Buffy pointed at her and gave the group of…Eldar?…a small wave.  "Nice to meet you.  Thanks for treating us, I know we needed it.  And for the clothes."

Galadriel nodded deeply.  "You are most welcome, Lady Willow."

Suddenly, another of Haldir's men slid into the room, immediately making for Celeborn and Galadriel and bowing slightly, hand on his chest.  "Hir'nín.  Híril'nín.  Tolo avorn!  I edain nar echui.  Nar prestannen."

(My Lord.  My Lady.  Come fast!  The men are awakening.  They are troubled.)

Celeborn nodded and dismissed the guard, then turned back to the confused girls.  "Your companions are waking."

"Can we see them?" Dawn asked eagerly, taking a small step forward.

Galdriel smiled warmly.  "Of course.  If you would follow us."

They exited the room, stepping out onto winding stairs.  Three of the guards went first, then Celeborn and Galadriel, then another guard, then Dawn and Buffy, then Faith, Willow, and Haldir, who acted as though he did not trust the group, three of his men falling to the rear.

Willow could hear Buffy and Dawn oohing and awing at the mind-blowing architecture of the tree-city, but Willow felt her mind slip away.  Galadriel.  She had heard that name somewhere before.  She knew it.  Something about this place was familiar.  Not in sight and sound, but in being.

"Something wrong?"

Willow looked up to find Faith eyeing her with concern.  She shrugged.  "Not really…"

"Yeah," Faith muttered understandingly.  "Where does the 'but' come in to play?"

Willow glanced over her shoulder at Haldir, who was watching them intently, then leant in to the brunette.  "I don't know, it's just like…this feels familiar to me.  Like I've heard of it before.  I'm getting major déja vu here but I just can't seem to put my finger on it."

"It's interesting whatever it is," Faith murmured in agreement.  "These people…they aren't human."

Willow nodded slowly as they finally came to a stop at the door to the room directly above the one the four girls had awoken in.  "Got that right."

Faith's next comment was cutoff by a loud growl from the room they had stopped in front of.  "Where are they?!" 

"If those girls have been harmed in any way, you will--"

Buffy's eyes went wide as she plowed through the curtains that separated the stairs from the shouters, the rest of the group close behind her.  "Whoa!  Giles!  Chill!"

Giles, who had been glaring menacingly at one of the guards, looked up in shock.  "Buffy!"

Buffy rushed to her mentor, throwing her arms around him.  She was followed closely by Dawn, Faith, and Willow.

Faith poked the Watcher in the side, a nervous smile on her face at the unfamiliar familiarity.  "Ripper, much?"

Xander and Spike both grabbed the nearest girl and hugged them in relief.  Xander ended up with Willow, Spike with Dawn.

Spike jerked away from Dawn almost immediately, frowning down at her.  "Are you wearing dresses?"

Dawn stepped back and looked the ex-vampire over.  He was no longer in his trademark black pants, black tee, and over shirt.  He was wearing a silver cotton tunic that fell down to his knees and dark grey leggings under them.  His Doc's had been replaced by strange boots that swirled up over the bleach-blond's calves.  Around his waist was a leather knotted belt, pinning the tunic around him.  Dawn raised an eyebrow.  "Nice tights, Spike."

Willow snorted as she looked down at Xander.  He was dressed similarly, the difference being his ice-blue tunic and dark blue leggings, and, of course, the black eye-patch over his bad eye.  Giles tunic was pastel green while his leggings were the color of Willow's dress.  He also still had his glasses.  Xander blushed at Willow's appraisal while Giles ignored it, examining them in concern.  "Are you four all right?  When I regained consciousness, I was so worried, and then Xander and Spike awoke, and--"

"Relax, Giles," Buffy replied, prying her arm from his grip.  "The, um, these guys have been pretty cool."

"The Elder," Faith supplemented to her sister-Slayer.

"Eldar," Willow corrected immediately.

Faith nodded, accepting the correction.  "Oh, um, right."

"Eldar?" Xander asked, wrinkling his brow in confusion.

Buffy nodded.  "That's what they call themselves."

"This is way weird," Dawn muttered, rubbing her forehead.  "We're definitely _not _in Ohio, might not even be on Earth as far as I know."

"Where are we?" Giles asked, glancing over the girls' shoulders as he noticed the group watching them carefully.

"Krass Galthone, I think?" Buffy suggested.

"Caras Galadhon," Willow corrected again.

"Right," Buffy agreed.  "And that's in…um…Lululand?"

"Lothlórien."

All eyes swung around in shock.  Buffy openly gaped.  "Xander?"

Willow understood the blonde's sentiments completely.  Of all the people to know where they were, the last person should have been her best friend.  But he did.  Know.  And he panicked.  He jumped to his feet, throwing his hands in the air.  "We're in _Lord of the Rings_?!"

As soon as the sentence had left his mouth, all eight of the guards, Haldir included, had them surrounded, bows armed, aimed, and ready to fire.  Dawn's eyes went wide as Spike shoved her behind him, both their hands up in surrender.  "Whoa."

Xander, however, was oblivious to their impending deaths.  He ran a hand through his hair, his head shaking in disbelief.  "No.  Nonononono.  This is _not happening_!"

"That's where I've heard all this before," Willow murmured as all the pieces fell into place for her.  They were in Middle-Earth, the realm of the legend written by Tolkien.  And they were among the Elves.  "No wonder I didn't remember.  I haven't read those books since I was six."

Dawn frowned, eyeing Willow as if she were crazy.  "Six?"

Willow shrugged.  "Well, I'm a reader, you know that.

"It's been a few decades here, as well," Giles muttered, cleaning his glasses on the edge of his tunic.

"Never read them," Faith said, unashamed.

Spike nodded.  "Same.  Though I think I ate a cousin of Tolkien's."

"Saw the freaky weird cartoon with Dawn," Buffy grumbled, not happy with the memory.

The Elves, however, we're not distracted.  Galadriel frowned as she stepped forward to examine Xander.  "What do you know of the Rings and their Lord?"

"Wow," Xander breathed as he took in the Lady of Lórien.  "Galadriel, right?"

"How does _he_ know all of this?" Faith asked quietly.

Willow grinned.  "Xander became a bit…obsessed.  It's the only book without pictures I've ever seen him read."

Xander rolled his eyes at his friend.  "That gets funnier every time you say it, Will."

Celeborn came up beside his wife, gazing at the group sternly.  "What business do you have here in Lórien?"

"Um…" Xander frowned as he finally noticed the armed guards aiming at them.  He bit his lip as if he were working up his courage, then bowed slightly to the Lord.  "Mae govannen!  Nam rendír dóro haeron.  Mbam beriad."

(Good meet!  We are pilgrims of a distant land.  We need protection.)

Faith stared at him, torn between disgust and amazement.  "You speak the language?"

"Shut up," Spike hissed as he waited for the Elves' reaction.

"What did you say?" Buffy whispered to Xander.  He ignored her, so she turned to her mentor.  "Giles?"

"I'm not sure," he muttered, watching the exchange.  "Hello, I think."

Xander glanced back at them and nodded.  "And something to the effect of 'we are pilgrims of a distant land, we need protection'.  I think."

Buffy frowned.  "Protection?"

"It's a plea for help, Buffy!" Willow hissed lowly.

Galadriel was gazing at Xander analytically.  "Pedach Sindarin, hir'nín?"

(You speak Elvish/Sindarin, my lord?)

Xander shrugged, giving her a small half-smile.  "Pedon tithen, híril'nín."

(I speak little, my lady.)

Galadriel smiled back warmly.  "Ind lastach mae."

(Though you listen well.)

Celeborn nodded to Xander then turned to the head of the guards.  "Haldir."

Haldir knew what was expected.  He bowed.  "Hir'nín.  Híril'nín."

Then the guards were gone, leaving the group from Sunnydale alone with Celeborn and Galadriel.  They both studied the group carefully.  Celeborn was the first to speak.  "How came you to Lothlórien?"

"We, um," Buffy stuttered, unsure of how to answer so the two Elves could understand.  Finally, she settled on the truth.  "We were in a car crash."

Galadriel slightly narrowed her eyes again in that speculative way she had earlier.  "Car crash?"

"Cart accident?" Dawn suggested hopefully.

That didn't sit as well with the two Elves either.  They stared at the group for the longest time they had ever stared at them.  Then Galadriel spoke.  "You are not of this realm."

Giles paled slightly, but was the first to recover.  "Uh, no, actually."

"Then how do you know of our ways?" Celeborn asked carefully.

"In our world, this is all a legend," Giles replied honestly.

Galadriel frowned.  "Legend?"

"Yeah, the Fellowship and Frodo and the Ring and all…" Xander explained, trailing off as Galadriel's frown deepened.  Xander gulped slightly.  "There has been a Fellowship, right?"

Celeborn frowned as well, appearing to be deep in thought.  "What kind of fellowship?"

"That's a no," Xander muttered, turning to his friends.  "Great."

"You have foreseen our future?" Galadriel inquired, a bit of a frightened edge to her voice.

Buffy shrugged.  "More like 'fore-read', but yeah."

Celeborn, whose posture had been perfect beforehand, found a way to miraculously straighten even more.  "Tis dangerous, the knowledge of what is to come."

"Well, I really don't know much, except it all turns out okay in the end," Buffy tried to reassure him.  The she stopped, thinking for a moment before turning to Xander, Willow, and Giles with a worried look.  "It does turn out okay, right?"

Willow grimaced and shrugged.  "If things go the way they are supposed to."

"I'm with, Buffy," Dawn muttered, looking to Xander for help.  "I don't actually remember anything."

Faith snorted.  "I still don't even get what's going on right now."

"I'm with Slayer Two," Spike muttered.

Giles shook his head.  "The details seem to elude me."

Xander shrugged, looking helpless.  "I'm fuzzy myself."

Dawn scoffed loudly.  "Yeah, real fuzzy, you speaking perfect Elvish and all."

"Elvish?!" Faith nearly shouted in disbelief.  "There are elves here?!"

Dawn rolled her eyes.  "Hello!  Right there!"

"You guys are elves?" Faith asked, squinting at Celeborn and Galadriel in disbelief.  "But you're tall."

Giles sighed.  "I have a headache."

"All right, now, hold it!" Spike shouted, raising his arms in a call for silence.

Everyone quieted, except for Dawn, who muttered, "Yes, sir!" before becoming still.

Spike gave the two Elvish nobles a look of apology, then rounded on his companions.  "Now, let's first sit-down and make polite-like.  Introductions are in order first."

Buffy frowned as she sat down on one of the three beds in the room beside Dawn, Xander, and Giles.  "When did you suddenly get all proper?"

"I was a Victorian, luv," Spike explained impudently as he bowed Galadriel and Celeborn to seats on the lone bed against the left wall before taking a seat next to Willow and Faith on the remaining bed.  "I know how to be polite to people it's worth being polite to."

Dawn scowled.  "I think that was an insult."

"That is Dawn Summers," Spike told the two Elves politely.

Galadriel nodded in Dawn's directions.  "We have all already been introduced to the ladies."

"Well, then, I'm Spike," Spike continued, unabashed.  He then pointed to the opposite bed.  "Alexander Harris.  Rupert Giles."

"Strange names for strange men," Celeborn declared slowly.  "I am Lord Celeborn and this is my lady, Galadriel."

"Yeah, our names are so weird," Willow heard Faith mutter under her breath.

"Faith!" she hissed in shame, remembering the Elves superior hearing.

If the two Elves heard the exchange, they ignored it.  Galadriel smiled warmly.  "Welcome to Lórien.  Or should I say to Middle-Earth?"

Xander looked up at Willow and, as one, they muttered, "Middle-Earth."

Giles rolled his eyes at his young charges' antics and turned to the Elves.  "My Lord, my Lady, you wouldn't happen to know exactly how we came to be here, would you?"

Celeborn shook his head, his expression grim.  "To travel from one realm to another is a mighty feat reserved only for the wisest and most powerful of beings."

"Oh, that's not us," Buffy replied automatically.  "Well, powerful, sorta.  Wise?  Nuh-uh."

"The people of Lórien beheld a great tear form in the sky," Celeborm continued, turning his eyes upward.  "Through blinding light, seven creatures fell, dropping to the forest floor.  The guards of this land went to investigate and found you."

"Great magic was upon you all, burning your skin when I came to thee," Galadriel told them gravely.  "You were almost beyond my aid."

"In our realm, we were about to die," Xander explained to the Lady.  "We lost control of our, uh, cart and it was falling into a fiery explosion."

Celeborn paused to think this over then frowned.  "The will to live was strong in you?"

"Most of us," Giles replied cautiously with a small glance at Spike.  "We were…about to begin our lives anew."

Galadriel nodded slowly.  "The will of a living spirit is strong, but even then, one would need a tool to travel across the realms of being."

Faith looked up at the she-Elf, then turned and narrowed her eyes at Dawn.  "Like…a Key?"

"Huh?" Dawn started as all eyes turned to her,  then she caught on to Faith's meaning.  "Hey!  No fair blaming me!"

Celeborn and Galadriel both rose to their feet quickly, staring at the girl intently.  Galadriel took a step forward.  "You are the Key?"

Dawn's eyes widened.  "Uh oh."

"Oops," Faith muttered under her breath, rising to her feet and stepping between the two Elves and Dawn.

Buffy, Xander, Spike, Willow, and Giles all instantly followed suit, Giles motioning Dawn towards the door.  "Dawn, go!"

Galadriel immediately stepped back holding up a hand in peace.  "Fear not.  No harm will come to you within our borders."

Dawn remained seated, but the others stayed standing.  Celeborn watched them in interest.  "There is much power within all of you.  Though dark or light, I cannot tell."

"The Key is known to us in this realm," Galadriel explained with a small look at Dawn.  "It is power that can be used for good or ill.  Though I sense that there is no ill will within you sweet girl of the Morrowdim.  You are truly pure of heart."

With that, the others relaxed, though they remained standing and alert.  Celeborn sighed, deep in thought.  "With the Key made flesh, her spirit's will and the Key's power could have opened the tear between realms, unlikely though it may be."

Dawn shook her head as she stood up beside her sister.  "It has to have blood."

"You were bleeding from several wounds," Galadriel told her gently.  "Not all of which were sustained in the fall."

Dawn frowned, straining her memory.  "Well, I did cut my hand on the…oops."

"Dawn?" Buffy growled lowly.  "Did you will us here?"

"I don't think so!" Dawn protested loudly.

Everyone rounded on her.  "Dawn!"

"I don't even really know about this world!" Dawn nearly shouted in her defense.  "Why would I will us _here_?!"

Xander turned to Galadriel, a look of pleading in his eyes.  "Can you send us back?"

The she-Elf shook her head sadly.  "That is a task that is beyond me."

Dawn sighed, then looked down at her bandaged palm.  "Well, wait."

Dawn quickly tore the bandage off revealing an almost completely-healed cut running diagonally across her palm.  With a small grimace she picked off the scab, then closed her eyes, face screwed up in effort.

Buffy watched all this in confusion.  "Dawn, what do you think your doing?"

Dawn, not opening her eyes, grunted, "I'm willing us home."

Willow sighed, then grabbed the bandage on the floor and her hand.  "It won't work."

"The portal can only be opened in specific places at specific times," Giles reminded the girl gently.  "It was mere luck that it could be opened when we needed it."

"I don't know if I'd call it luck," Spike grumbled under his breath.

Dawn opened her eyes to reveal tears threatening to fall.  "What are we supposed to do, then?"

"We…we can't stay here!" Spike protested, biting her lip in worry.  "We don't belong!"

"I have to go to Cleveland!" Faith reminded them, a slight edge to her voice.  "I'm the Slayer!"

Xander sighed as he sat back down on the edge of one of the beds, resigned to his fate.  "I was going to start a construction company."

Willow started playing with her hands, panicked.  "This society is Medieval!  I don't know if I can survive here!"

"Yeah!" Buffy agreed.  "There's no indoor plumbing!"

Xander rolled his eyes.  "Nice way to focus, Buff."

"Buffy has a point, however skewed it may be," Giles said slowly.  "Can we survive without technology?"

Xander threw Dawn an evil glare.  "You couldn't will us into _Star Wars_, could you?"

Willow snorted.  "Yeah, Xander's much better at Aurebesh than Sindarin."

"At least it isn't _Harry Potter_," Dawn grumbled.

Everyone shuddered.

Xander sighed again, chewing on his lip.  "Maybe we could, uh, go to…um…let me think…Gondor?  Is that the name of the country of Men?"

Celeborn nodded.  "One of them."

Buffy gave Xander a strange look.  "How is it you can speak Elvish but you don't really remember the names of key places?"

Xander blanched.  "Well, um…it's that, uh…well, it's really, uh…"

"Xander had to learn the language for his RPGs," Willow replied with a straight face.

The group nodded.  "Ooooh."

Xander rose from his seat and backed away from the group, his face red.  Galadriel, sensing the boy's embarrassment, put a comforting hand on his shoulder.  Then immediately removed it, her smile failing.  "Are you sure you're of the race of Men?"

Xander hesitated for a moment, then nodded.  "Pretty sure."

Galadriel gave a short nod, frowning at something off in the distance.  "Strange."

"What's strange?" Willow asked warily.

"You all have the feel of Elf-kin," Galadriel explained, looking to her husband.  "I did not notice before."

"We _what_?"

Celeborn closed his eyes for a moment, appearing to be searching for something.  After a moment, he nodded slowly, eyes still closed.  "You all have at least a little of the blood of the Eldar in your veins.  All of you, though some more than others."

"It is the same with the other races," Galadriel murmured quietly.  "Your blood is not just of the blood of Men and Elves.  I can sense the blood of Dwarves and Hobbits within you as well."

Xander shrugged.  "As long as you don't say you sense Orc blood, I'm okay with that."

Galadriel smiled slightly.  "Indeed.  It is more like you are a separate race, one of old bloodlines tied together for many years."

"It would explain their height," Celeborn muttered with a glance at Buffy.

The Slayer scowled.  "Hey!"

"But, we can't be all that," Willow protested in confusion.  "We're all human.  Only exception might be Dawn."

Galadriel frowned.  "Human?"

Dawn nodded.  "Yeah, human."

"What is this human?" Celeborn asked slowly.

"That's what we are," Spike replied.  "Race of people and all."

"Then you aren't of the race of Man," Celeborn said as if it all made sense.

"Yes, we are," Faith told them.  "Man.  Woman.  Human."

"The term human does not exist here," Galadriel replied.  "Human must be the race that was formed by the merging of many bloodlines.  Interesting."

Celeborn nodded.  "Though the link is small, you are Elf-kin.  Since you are Elf-kin, you may make your home in Lórien."

Willow frowned.  "Stay here?"

"It is rare for us to allow mortals to dwell here with us, but it is not unheard of," Celeborn explained.  "Here in Lórien we can help you, teach you the skills you would need to survive in Middle-Earth."

Galadriel gave her husband a quizzical glance, then covered it as she turned to the group.  "It is a weighty decision, one that requires great thought.  We will leave you to rest now in peace, and know that we will aid you in your need."

Celeborn smiled at the confused group.  "Rest well."

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A/N: I know this chapter isn't the best, so you really don't have to tell me.  It gets better, especially once we get to the events of the Fellowship of the Ring.  Yes, we will get there.

Please R/R!


	3. Lord Celeborn's Musings

A/N:  Okay, relatively short chapter, I know.  But at least I'm updating pretty regularly.  I'm gonna try and keep updating at least once a week, maybe even faster.  Now, before we get to Celeborn's thoughts, let me clear up a few things.

I've gotten a few questions about Spike and why he's walking around in the daytime.  He can do that because I made him human.  It's back in the first chapter, Spike crawling out of the pothole that is now Sunnydale and being human.

Also, we WILL get to the Fellowship, even though it doesn't happen for a little less than forty years and several chapters.  Don't worry, it'll all make sense when we get there.

One more thing about pairings.  **IF YOU WANT TO KNOW THE PAIRINGS OF THIS STORY, SAY SO IN A REVIEW AND LEAVE YOUR EMAIL ADDRESS!**  I will get back to you within a few days.  But don't just ask a question or something, ask me specifically and put your address **in** the review, don't just sign it and expect me to go hunting.  I'm **not** going hunting for your email address based on a vague question.  One thing I will tell you is that Aragorn and Arwen will still be together.  That's like Buffy and Angel to me.  No if, ands, or buts about it, a soulmate is a soulmate and I will not tamper with it.

Oh, and **Briana Marie**, I love Harry Potter, and yes, I have a crossover all worked out, but I want to be finished or well on my way to being finished with this before I even attempt it.  The comment was made in reference to the HP/LOTR wars so many people seem to be in.  Quickly, I state that I do not have a favorite between the two.  They are both wonderful in different ways.  :)

Okay, now to the story:

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--Celeborn's POV

Galadriel does not understand why I did it.  I do not understand why I did it.  They are mortals, born to pass on from this realm, and no amount of Elf-blood should grant them what I have.  As my wife reminds me often, these are dangerous times and open trust is no longer wise.  But it felt right, felt like something the Valar wanted done.  But the reason no longer matters.  I have offered the "humans" a home; what's done is done.

They are a strange group.  They know our future, which is frightening enough.  They all have haunted eyes.  They have seen death and destruction and posses wisdom beyond their few years.  I know it has something to do with their powers, mostly with the blonde woman.  The women are strong in nature and spirit, each possessing a power that frightens me.  The men seem to be the weaker ones and must fight constantly with the girls.  They are obviously not brother, father, or husband to the women, yet they seem to be their guardians and are fiercely protective of them.  Not family by blood, but by bonds forged even deeper.

The older man is a father to them.  I see it.  They look to him for strength and guidance.  He possesses little power, a bit of magic, but beyond that he is a very normal man.  But he loves the young ones as only a father could.  He will be the one to deal with.  He is wise and learned, eager for more knowledge.  He will tell us what we need to know, though I sense that he will do anything necessary to protect his children.

The one who knows the most of our ways, the strange man, is completely normal.  He has no power beyond that given to him by his Elf-blood.  He even seems a bit incompetent, though loyal and determined.

The blond man is a normal man.  I am sure of it.  But he has the mark of a demon.  He has power, mostly enhancement of his physical strength.  He is not as dangerous as one would fear, but he is haunted.  He's killed.  Many times.  He was redeemed.  I feel the light of blessings upon him.  But he does not want them.  Many times, I've found, a spirit will punish itself far worse than even the most unmerciful of souls.  He carries a heavy burden, a burden his companions fear he will decide to end.  His life.  His time here will be hard.

The dark-haired woman spoke of being "the Slayer".  I've never heard of such a term being applied so singularly.  It chilled me when she said it.  She is the darker of the group, not just physically, but spiritually.  There is a dark taint upon her soul, one she is working hard to rid herself of.  I fear for her.  She is one of the group that is most confused, doubtful of the Eldar and her surroundings.  This will be hard for her as well.  I can see it.

The younger one is the Key.  It has been many years since I first learned of the Key and its purpose.  Its power was even hidden in Middle-Earth for a time, guarded by the Istari until Sauron discovered its presence.  It was sent away by the Valar, then, one of the few times I have ever seen them directly intervene in such things.  Now, the Key has returned to Middle-Earth, made of flesh and blood.  The little one does not know what that means, and I feel compelled to question the Valar's judgment in this.  One so young should not have to carry a burden so heavy.

The blonde is something like the dark-haired one, though without the stain.  I can tell she was been dead before, yes, and that something brought her back to the realm of the living.  It worries me, worries Galadriel.  She can feel it too.  Something dark upon this girl's shoulders, a weight that she has born long enough to have it leave its mark.  She is powerful, but I do not fear her like I do the other women.  She is not as bright.

The redhead.  She is a different matter entirely.  She has the most power of the entire group.  She is a magic user, a witch.  She bleeds magic, most of it pure, though she has turned to dark sorcery before.  Sometime in the last few years, even.  It courses through her, calls to her.  This will be hardest for her.  I know she feels the pull, though Galadriel has reassured me that she is not to fear.  Though I find I cannot help but fear her.  I still find myself fearful of my wife, though the occasions are few and far between.

Fear is not a weakness.  No.  Fear is a good thing.  To fear something is to respect it.  Without fear, there would be no caution.  I fear these people, these humans.  They have been sent here, for they could not have traveled between realms without the blessings of the Valar.  They have purpose here.  But I fear they will not be able to meet it.


	4. When Kansas Can't Be Reached

A/N:  Okay, I'm majorly breaking my rule of only one update a week.  But my friends and I finally convinced a friend of ours who is like Mr. Fantasy-Movies-And-Stories-Are-Stupid to watch The Fellowship.  And he loved it!  (Of course.)  Well, inspiration struck.  This chapter is a bit rough, but I just wanted to write on it so bad.  Well, here you guys go!

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The silence in the room was deafening.  After the Elves left, they did not rest.  Spike sat down on the floor, his back to a wall.  Buffy was sitting cross-legged on Giles' bed, deep in thought, fingers brushing through Dawn's hair in a soothing pattern.  Dawn was sitting on the floor at Buffy's feet, twiddling her thumbs.  Willow was flopped down on her back on Xander's bed, Xander lounging a few feet from her, both frowning hard.  Giles was pacing the room slowly, trying to sort out his thoughts.  Faith was lying on her stomach on Spike's bed, picking at her fingernails.

No one said a word for the longest time.

That was until Faith sat up and sighed.  "So."

"We're in Middle-Earth," Willow stated quietly.

Everyone nodded quietly, still half-lost in their thoughts.  A few moments later, Buffy looked up at Willow and Xander quizzically.  "What happened to Top-Earth and Bottom-Earth?"

"They were cut out during the editing process," Xander replied seriously.

Buffy nodded, again sinking into her thoughts.  "Oh."

"Well," Spike started slowly, "of all the situations we've been in…"

Willow nodded.  "Yeah."

Faith cleared her voice, drawing everyone's attention to her.  "So, is someone going to tell me what this place is all about or do I have to go beat it out of some Elf?"

"I'll help," Spike muttered dryly.

"Don't bother," Xander replied disinterestedly.  "They wouldn't know what to tell you."

Faith sighed in frustration.  "I never thought being a total geek would pay off, or I would have converted to that Dark Side a long time ago."

"Thanks for that support," Willow told the Slayer.

Faith sighed again, then looked at Willow seriously.  "Where are we?"

"Okay," Willow started slowly.  "Think medieval.  Throw in magic.  A race of people that are beautiful, magical, wise, and immortal.  Mining dwarves not unlike the Seven Dwarfs, though less touchy-feely, more manly-man.  Big bad evil guy.  And you got the world we now live in."

Xander shrugged.  "More or less."

"And I take it that feminism hasn't happened here yet?" Faith asked with little hope.

"That would be a no," Xander muttered.

She sighed, flopping back onto the bed.  "Perfect."

"My sentiments exactly," Willow grunted.

Dawn bit her lipe, then looked up at Giles.  "Do we really have to stay here?"

"Do you have a better idea?" their mentor asked.

"Yes," Buffy replied.  "Let's go home."

"What home?" Faith murmured.

"America-home," Buffy said matter-of-factly.  Then she turned to Giles and smiled.  "You can go to England if you want."

Giles stopped pacing and sighed loudly.  "Buffy, we aren't just in another country.  We are in another universe.  I highly doubt we'll ever be able to return to our home world."

Willow moaned whiningly.  "I want a cookie."

"Yeah," Xander agreed, looking up in interest.  "What's there to eat around here?"

"Forget that, what's up with the future of this place?" Faith asked, still completely in the dark.  "You didn't look too excited."

"Well, there's a ring, the Ring," Xander explained.  "It, um, well it's bad.  I don't remember how."

"It gives power, correct?" Giles asked.

Xander shrugged, unsure.  "Maybe?"

"Well, where is it?" Faith asked, sitting back up.  "Think we could use it to go home?"

As one, Giles, Willow, and Xander shouted, "NO!"

Faith, Buffy, Dawn, and Spike jumped, looking up at the three in surprise.

Willow shook her head, breathing frantically.  "No.  No using it.  No using, no touching, no looking, no thinking.  Big bad type evil."

"Really don't want that," Xander agreed.

Faith rolled her eyes in exasperation.  "Well, what's the deal with it, then?"

Xander wrinkled his brow in thought.  "Um, well, there's this, um, Hobbit--"

"Hobbit?" Spike repeated, confused.

Willow nodded.  "Yeah, tiny person."

"Dwarf?" Spike asked, confused even more.

"No, you know what Dwarves are like," Xander replied with a dismissive wave.  "Hobbits are just like people, only smaller.  I want to say four feet."

Giles shrugged.  "About right, I guess."

Faith nodded slowly in understanding.  "So, were talking about Buffy's people, then?"

Buffy wrinkled her nose in distaste.  "Funny."

"Okay, again," Spike growled slowly.  "What's with the Hobbit?"

Xander sighed.  "There's this one Hobbit guy called Frodo who gets the Ring and goes on this mission to destroy it."

Faith raised an eyebrow in interest.  "How?"

Willow bit her lip.  "Well…um…there's a Fellowship."

Dawn scowled.  "Like church?"

"No!  It's like a big group."

Giles looked at Xander.  "Actually, it's a rather small group, is it not?"

"I, uh…yeah," Xander replied uncertainly.  "I think."

Buffy raised an eyebrow.  "Think?"

Xander shrugged.  "Like I said, it's a little fuzzy."

Spike rolled his eyes.  "Well, how many people are in this Fellowship thingy?"

"Ten?" Willow suggested.

Xander clapped his hands loudly, making excited gestures.  "No!  Nine!"

"Nine?" Faith repeated, doubtfully.  "Weird number."

"Yeah," Willow agreed slowly.  "There is a reason…"

Xander jumped to his feet, stomping loudly in aggravation.  "I can't remember!"

"Are we going to stay _here_ here?" Dawn asked nervously.

Giles raised an eyebrow and looked to his young charges.  "What do you six think?"

Buffy shook her head slowly.  "Where else could we go?"

"We could go anywhere," Dawn protested.

"And do what?" Giles asked.

Spike coughed back a laugh.  "We could whore out Faith."

Faith snorted.  "I don't think so."

"This is a medieval culture," Giles explained slowly.  "There is very little we could do."

"I could join the army," Buffy said.

"You're a woman," Spike pointed out.

"I could dress up like a boy," the Slayer replied with a shrug.  "Do the whole Mulan thing."

"They were going to execute Mulan in the end," Willow reminded her friend.  "Things got Disney after that."

"Giles could teach!" Dawn exclaimed like it was the answer to everything.

"Teach what?  Fairy tales?  That's all our world would seem like to them."

Dawn shrugged.  "Math, science, English!"

"Worthless to most," Giles replied bitterly.  "Even the nobility."

"So," Buffy drawled.  "All for staying with the Elves then?"

"Let's think about it," Giles cautioned.  "I don't want to rush into any decisions headlong."

They all nodded their agreement.  Faith sighed and looked up towards the sky sadly.  "You're sure there's no way home?"

"Dunno," Spike grunted from the floor.  "Click your heels three times, see where it gets you."

Giles sighed, rubbing his fingers against his temple.  "I'm going for a walk.  Clear my head."

Buffy waved half-heartedly.  "Have fun."

Giles left the room and found seven of the Elven guards at attention just outside.  The one called Haldir frowned at Giles, but made no move to stop him as he turned and started up the stairs.  Giles chose to go up so that once he was tired of walking, all he'd have to do was go back down.  It had seemed the logical choice.  But it was one he almost immediately regretted.

The next level up seemed to be a sitting room, one that at the moment housed Lord Celeborn.  He was standing at the opposite end of the room, and for a moment Giles hoped that he might be able to retreat without notice.  But luck was not on his side.

"You are the one called Giles."

Giles grimaced, then slowly entered the room.  "Ah, yes.  Rupert Giles.  The children just call me Giles."

Celeborn turned towards the Watcher, his face a mask of trouble and doubt.  "What would you have me call you?"

"Giles is fine," the Watcher replied slowly.  "Or Rupert if you prefer."

Celeborn nodded, then gestured towards a small table surrounded by two chairs, all made of soft white wood.  Giles sat across from the Elven Lord warily.  Celeborn seemed not to notice.  "Are they your children?"

Giles sighed, relaxing a bit at the small talk.  "Sometimes I feel like they might be.  But no.  They are not mine, not biologically."

Celeborn frowned.  "Biologically?"

"By blood," Giles elaborated.

Celeborn nodded his understanding.  "But yours in ways that sometimes mean a great deal more?"

"Yes," Giles replied quietly.  "Yes, in those ways they are mine."

Celeborn nodded again, taking a moment to think this information over.  Then he sighed.  "Master Giles, let me be frank.  You and your children are strange creatures to us.  Yet you are powerful and therefore must be treated with caution."

"Yes, I know," Giles admitted to the Elf.  "Your invitation was not one of generosity.  Not really.  Will you keep us here should we desire to leave?"

Celeborn began to answer, then hesitated.  After a moment, he shook his head.  "I do not know."

"Well," Giles breathed, his nerves beginning to frazzle once more.  "Thank you for being honest, I suppose."

"What are the children?"

Giles hesitated.  He had been expecting this question, though it came much more sudden and direct than he had thought it would.  "I cannot tell you everything.  That is not my tale to tell."

Celeborn gave one stiff nod in acquiescence.  "The blonde and the dark woman, then.  What are they?"

"They are Slayers," Giles replied frankly.

Celeborn frowned again.  "I have never heard that word used as a title before."

"Our world is overrun by demons," Giles explained as vaguely as possible.  "In every generation a Slayer is born, one girl in all the world, a Chosen one, with the strength and skill to fight back the demons and their evil."

Celeborn's frown deepened.  "One?  But there are two, if what you say is true."

"It was one," Giles told him.  "For thousands of years, there was only one.  But, yes, there are two.  Buffy and Faith.  Chosen to combat the darkness."

"Mystic warriors, then," Celeborn breathed softly.

Giles nodded.  "Yes."

"And the others?"

"Close friends," Giles replied hesitantly.  "When they learned of the destiny that awaited the Slayer, they chose to help."

"A noble choice," Celeborn murmured in approval.  "What are you?"

Giles almost laughed.  He had forgotten himself.  "My official title is the Slayer's Watcher.  A Watcher is the Slayer's guide.  He trains her, prepares her, supports her."

Celeborn raised an eyebrow.  "The Watcher is the Slayer's father."

Giles shifted uncomfortably.  "In a way, yes."

"And you have all been together for awhile?" Celeborn persisted.

Giles nodded.  "Several years to us, but I don't it would seem like any significant amount of time to you."

Celeborn looked away, up towards the heavens.  "You fight for the Valar?"

Giles turned his gaze toward the Elf, confused.  "The what?"

"The Higher Beings?"  Celeborn elaborated.

"Oh, yes," Giles replied easily.  "We refer to them mainly as the Powers."

Celeborn paused for a moment, then turned back to Giles.  "Why should I trust your word, Master Giles?"

"What do I have to gain by lying?" Giles countered easily.

Celeborn hesitated, then moved on to another topic of conversation.  "Have you decided whether to stay in Lórien or not?"

"It is ultimately the children's decision," Giles told him matter-of-factly.  "I will go where they decide to go."

Celeborn smiled slightly at this.  "You let them determine their fate without interference."

"They need to learn to live on their own," Giles replied with his own smile, "though this situation warrants more interference than others."

Celeborn nodded in agreement, then paused.  "Can you survive in Middle-Earth?"

Giles sighed.  "I believe, given time to adjust, yes."

Celeborn hesitated a moment then as if sizing up Giles.  "You seem to be a much-learned man, Rupert Giles."

"I am a professional student," Giles replied in amusement.  "Knowledge is the only true weapon you can have when all others are stripped away.  Knowledge is power."

Celeborn's expression turned grave.  "The use of knowledge can be deadly."

Giles nodded slowly.  The future.  "I understand what needs to be done about that."

Celeborn nodded his approval, then rose to his feet and walked back to where he had been standing when Giles first entered the room.  "You are a wise man, Rupert Giles.  I look forward to our talks together.  I'm sure there is much we can learn from one another."

Giles rose to his feet as well.  "As am I."

"But now, you must return to your children," the Elf said with a gesture downwards.  "They grow restless."

Giles gave a small bow.  "Thank you, my Lord."

"Just one question before you go," Celeborn said quickly.  "Why do you think you were brought here?"

Giles stopped, turning toward the Elf.  "I do not know.  Perhaps to aid your cause."

Then Giles turned and left.  Celeborn smiled slightly to himself.  "You are warriors of Light.  Perhaps."


	5. The Incredible Shortness of Giles' Thoug...

A/N:  This is an incredibly short chapter, but don't worry.  Chapter Six is all typed up and ready to go.  It'll be up within the next day or two.  Just hang in there, things start to get more exciting in the next little bit.  Now, to the questions.

The first one is why are the Scoobs referred to as children.  Well, the only people who refer to them as children are Giles and the Elves.  Giles did this in the series, reinforcing his paternal role in the group.  I must inform those who have not read the book that any confusion as to why the Elves would call the Scoobies children is totally my fault.  I forgot to clarify, which I promised I would in the beginning, so please accept my humble apologies.  In the book, almost every Elf would refer to anybody who wasn't an Elf, be it young Pippin or the sixty-some-year-old Aragorn, as children.  It had to do with them being thousands upon thousands of years old.  So, to the Elves, even Giles in his around fifty-ish years would seem like those of a young child.

Wow.  That was the only question.  Cool.  Onto the incredibly short chapter!

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--Giles POV--

Dear lord, what am I going to do?  Stuck in the middle of…well…Middle-Earth with five young adults and a recently human-again vampire.  With Elves and all manner of creatures after such a long and violent year.

Oh, the children are weary.  They're too young to deal with this.  To lose so much, then to lose their very world.  What am I going to do?

Well, at least we fell into this world in a somewhat friendly environment.  These Elves seem to have a fair nature, but I worry.  This Celeborn, he knows too much after just two conversations.  Warriors of Light indeed.  What does he think he knows?  If the children weren't here and dependant upon me, then I'd have half a mind to…

Well, that is neither here nor there.  The children are here and they do depend upon me.  Rash actions will get us nowhere.

Interesting Elf, though, this Celeborn.  Interesting views.  He is frightened of us, that is for sure.  Frightened of the little that we know.  I understand his caution, though.  I wouldn't like a stranger knowing what my fate is to be.

He thinks we've been bought here, that this isn't an accident.  I'd be more inclined to agree if I did not know what I do know of Dawn's power.  Oh, but why would the Powers bring us here, to a realm of fantasy?  This world is fictional, it cannot hold much matter in the workings of the universes.  And why bring us all?  Buffy and Faith I could understand.  Willow, too, maybe.  But Dawn?  Spike?  Xander?  _Me_?

Purpose.  Celeborn spoke of it.  Purpose for being here.  Oh, I'd give near anything for a copy of Tolkien's work write about now.  Bloody imbecile.  What purpose could any of us have, there's nothing to be done.  Middle-Earth survives its evil more or less intact.  What more could we do?

Sudden movement a few steps away on these stairs broke my train of thought.  It was Dawn and Faith.  They both looked frantic and were being followed closely by three of the Elven guards.

As soon as Faith saw me, she relaxed.  "Hey, Giles.  Did Willow find you?"

I furrowed my brow.  "Willow?"

"She went to look for you," Dawn explained.  "We want your opinion on all this."

Oh, dear lord, what has that girl gotten into now?  "No, she didn't."

Faith and Dawn both seemed to share my opinion.

"Uh oh."


	6. Peeking at the Future

A/N:  Okay, sorry about the smallish cliffhanger in the last chapter.  Okay, so no, I'm not sorry.  He he!  Anyway, just one short note, mostly a reply to a review, and we're off.

Steve:  Sorry, buddy, I can't agree with you.  While I do agree that Buffy's character was sickening, I personally thought she started to go bitchy around seasons three and four.  I think that Spike was a very strong character until they started having him pine away for her.  The writers never gave any reasons for Spike falling in love with Buffy, except that she beat him up a lot.  Anyways, Spike, as the non-snivelly Buffy lover, is my absolute favorite male character (I'm so thrilled he's moving to Angel, my favorite of the two shows until this past season…what the hell was that?!) and he will be one of the main three Scoobies to get caught up in all this.  Oh, all seven will be there all the way, but three Scoobies are the forerunners in the action and Spike will be one of them.  Now I've completely given away a major plot point, but it's not fair to let Steve and the other Spike-haters read this to be disappointed.  Oh well.

Anyways, here's the next chapter, one of my favorites I've written for this.

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Lothlórien was absolutely gorgeous.  The tall trees seemed to go up forever, but down, down on the ground was the real beauty.  The grass was greener than any she had ever seen and as soft as feathers.  The dirt on the ground was perfect and beautiful in its own right, though it never seemed to dirty her feet or dress.  The architecture of the Elven city was unbelievable, more ethereal than any she had ever dreamed of.

They decided to look for Giles and had split up.  At first, only Faith, Buffy, and Spike had gone to find him.  A few moments after they had gone, Willow had decided to search for her mentor as well.  She had called a goodbye to Xander and Dawn, who were in some kind of discussion over their current situation, and had left.

No one was outside and she could find no evidence to suggest where her friends might have been, so she had followed her instincts.  She had gone down.  Down, down, the winding steps that circled the great tree.  Down to the ground level.

Again, Willow found herself alone, something she felt was odd given that she was in the middle of a great city.  But since it was growing late, it could easily be explained away.

The ground level was more breathtaking than the treehouse.  Paths wound away from the base of the steps, paths formed by the earth itself.  Careful to note the glistening fountain that marked the tree she was living in, she took the path to her left and started to wander, just enjoying the beauty Lórien offered.  It seemed that this was but another level of the house as well, with a bedroom wrought right into the base of the tree.  There were a few glistening white tents off to the side, offering peaceful shelter, but she continued on.  A small steam with crystal water trickled along beside her, past tables and chairs made of tree roots.

The path that didn't really exist led off to a great flight of stairs.  They twisted downwards to a small glen between the trees, made out of the earth itself.  The stream also twisted down to that glen, forming a small fountain within one of the trees, barely visible to her from the top of the stairs.  Against all of her instincts, Willow found herself drawn down to that glen.

Beautiful it was.  The same architecture prevalent there as anywhere else in Lórien.  Arches made of twisting branches, statues of Elves long past, the fountain in that tree.  And in the middle of the room, a small dais was raised.  On top of it rested a basin.

She was tempted to look in it.  But for some reason it seemed forbidden to her.  All of her being was drawing her to it, yet everything she knew to be was pushing her away.

"I see you found my Mirror, Lady Willow."

Willow jumped, turning back towards the stairs she had just come down, slapping a hand across her mouth to keep from screaming.  After a moment of forcing her heart rate to return to normal, she lowered her hand and nodded to the Elf Lady.  "Lady Galadriel.  You startled me."

The Elf smiled warmly at Willow, all her bright beauty shining forth in that moment.  A few graceful steps led the Lady of Light to the small fountain, where she picked up a silver pitcher.  "I find I have a tendency to do that around those not of the Eldar."

"You're a witch, aren't you?" Willow asked before she could stop herself.  Instantly, she felt her cheeks warm as she flushed at her impudence.

Galadriel, though, just drew water from the fountain with the pitcher and turned to face the redhead.  "Indeed.  I practice magics.  All of the Eldar have the gift, though most do not use it or have little talent.  I belong to neither group."

Willow nodded, feeling ashamed of herself.  But the eternal student in her could not be satisfied or repressed.  Willow turned towards the dais and nodded at it.  "What is this?"

"It is the Mirror of Galadriel," the she-Elf replied as she joined Willow beside the Mirror.  "My Mirror."

Willow glanced up at the she-Elf, her mind hard at work.  "I doubt it shows physical reflections.  Perhaps reflections of time and events?"

Galadriel seemed very pleased with this answer.  "Very good, young one.  What else?"

Willow backed away from the Mirror, once again looking over her surroundings.  Finding nothing save for the wonder of Lórien, Willow turned back to the Lady herself.  She was truly a beautiful lady.  Her golden hair fell down around her in waves.  Her skin was so perfect that it glowed brightly.  Her lacy white dress seemed to sparkle all the more just because it was her dress.  But something about the Lady did catch Willow's attention.

"You have a ring on your right hand," Willow told her, staring at the swirling silver ring in wonder.  "I'm not supposed to be able to see it."

Galadriel brought her hand to bear to give them both a clearer look.  She seemed both pleased and troubled at the same time.  "You are very powerful, Lady Willow."

Willow blushed and bowed her head.  "Thank you, my Lady."

"It was not a compliment," Galadriel pointed out gently as she lowered her hand once more.  "Merely an observation."

Willow blushed again and nodded, looking up at the Lady in confusion.  Galadriel's face was grave, though her eyes were still warm and caring.  "Power is dangerous, Willow.  It is tempting."

Willow blanched, taking a few steps back.  "You know.  About me.  Don't you?"

"You are marked, Willow," Galadriel replied seriously with a small nod of acknowledgement.  "It is a dark mark.  You know black sorcery.  My question is simple and you know it."

Willow wet her lips, suddenly feeling like a frightened child.  She shivered, closing her eyes against the warmth of Lórien as she remembered her black past.  "I…I'm a witch.  I used my power for Light, but…I dabbled in black magics and became addicted.  I tried giving up all magics but…I couldn't.  It was a year ago.  My love died and I fell to temptation.  I became the embodiment of black sorcery.  The temptation will always be there, but I've learned control."

"You have?" Galadriel asked, her tone impressed.  "Would you look into the Mirror?"

Willow opened her eyes, but still wrapped her arms around herself, feeling extremely cold.  She glanced at the Mirror, her fear growing, but even though it went against all she had been taught, she trusted the Lady of Light completely, from the moment she had seen her.  "Okay."

Willow watched as very slowly, Galadriel emptied the pitcher into the basin.  Then the she-Elf stepped back and motioned Willow forward.  Willow slowly and reluctantly closed the distance between her and the Mirror, then leant over it, looking it straight on.

She didn't see her reflection, just as she had guessed.  But she did see something.

A golden ring.

Swirling.

Twirling.

Then the ring melted and tarnished into a wave of golden hair, hanging around a man's head.  She couldn't see his face clearly, since he was turned away from her, but she did see a huge broadsword raised high above it as he rushed alone into a mighty battle.

Then the image suddenly melted back into the golden ring.

Only to twist this time into a small tiara-like headband, fastened in the flowing dark hair of a noble woman.

Then it was that swirling ring again.

This time the ring stretched into a dress, a golden dress of a smiling maid.  She was happy, with some dark-haired man, spinning quickly.

The spinning quickened until it was once again a ring.

This time the ring became pointed, stabbed into the hand of a girl, pinning her to the floor.  Willow almost screamed at the bloodied golden nail before it reformed again.

It was a ring.

The ring then suddenly flipped, doubling, making two golden rings.  The rings became bigger and bigger, while fading completely.

All Willow was left to stare at was a pair of eyes.

The eyes were beautiful, bluer than the bluest eyes she had seen.  They weren't ice blue, like Spike's, but different.  Warmer.  Looking at those eyes, Willow knew she was seeing her home.

Willow stared at the eyes, hungry for them, dreading the next moment when she knew the ring would return.

Yet it did not.

The blue eyes continued to stare back at her.

After several moments of staring at the eyes, Willow wrenched her gaze from them.  She looked up at Galadriel and gave the she-Elf a weak smile.  "I think it's broken."

Galadriel raised an eyebrow in amusement.  "Broken, child?"

Willow nodded, looking back down into those blue depths.  "Yeah.  Not seeing much of anything.  'Cept a pair of eyes."

"Eyes?" Galadriel repeated, trying to keep from laughing.  "The Mirror's meanings are not always understandable to us now.  Only later do we sometimes see the message…or warning."

Willow felt herself grow cold once more as dark memories unbidden rose in her mind.  She pushed herself away from the Mirror, wrapping her arms around herself once more.  "Yeah.  Hindsight is a beautiful thing."

Galadriel watched her reaction with sad eyes.  Willow shook her head, not wanting the Elf's pity, and turned away.

A moment later, she felt warm hands on her shoulders her in a mothering touch from behind.  "My child, do not let yourself be swallowed by the darkness.  Your light shines even now."

Willow gasped at the feeling of peace that invaded her, then turned to Galadriel, tears welling up in her eyes.  "How…how can you trust me?  I thought…you said…"

Galadriel smiled tenderly at the young woman, hand coming up to bush the fallen tears from her cheek.  "I am marked as you are, but that mark is not who we are.  To become addicted and still rise above it is a feat worthy of honor."

"I just…I still feel dirty," Willow choked out, rubbing at the flesh of her arms through the velvet dress.  "Like it's under my skin.  Like I'll never be free of it."

"You will," Galadriel said with certainty.  "With guidance, you will become a great white-witch.  A witch that I feel you are already on the road to becoming.  You've worked unbelievable magics very recently.  With guidance, those can be just minor to what you could accomplish."

Willow looked down at the ground, unable to stop the tears of joy that came from this proclamation.  "I had teachers…a coven of powerful people…but they're a world away."

"I will teach you the magic of the Eldar," Galadriel replied gently.  "If you are willing to learn it?"

Willow looked up sharply.  "Elf-magic?"

"Have you worked magic since coming here?" Galadriel asked, taking a step back.

Willow nodded, remembering the small location spell she attempted to find Giles.  "Yeah.  It's…not as clear here.  It's hindered, like the magic is not fully formed."

"I will teach you the magics of my people," Galadriel said decidedly.  "Combined with those of the humans, you can do much good here."

Willow smirked knowingly to herself, muttering, "Yeah, you guys will need it."

Galadriel, with her lovely Elf-hearing heard the comment.  "You know what is to come, you and your companions?"

Willow, realizing that Galadriel had heard her, blushed.  "A little."

Galadriel held up a hand to silence the girl.  "Do not tell me.  Ever."

"But…we could fix things," Willow said quietly.

Galadriel raised an eyebrow.  "The One Ring still exists, yes?"

Willow nodded.  "Yeah."

"If events play out as you have foreseen them, Sauron will be destroyed?" Galadriel asked carefully.

Willow nodded again.  "He should be."

"Then tell me not," Galadriel said firmly.  "Tis a vague and unstable thing, the future.  Small things, things many would consider insignificant, can hold the world in balance.  Your knowledge is a dangerous thing."

Willow looked down, nodding slowly to herself.  "I'll talk to the others.  We won't say anything.  Not that what we know is very dangerous."

Galadriel laughed at that.  Willow looked up sharply and found herself holding the she-Elf's gaze.  "Do you know where the One Ring is, at this very moment?"

Willow paused for a moment, almost scared to answer.  Then she nodded.  "Yes."

"Then you hold within you the most dangerous secret of all."

Willow sighed, understanding then why it was so important that she and the others kept their silence.  "I'll talk with the others."

Galadriel smiled in approval.  "Good.  Your knowledge will be vital, but must be used at the opportune moment."

Willow bowed slightly.  "I understand."

"You say you know very little beyond that?" Galadriel asked curiously.

"Yes, my Lady," Willow replied, glancing back up at the Lady.  "Very little.  So little, it's practically insignificant."

"It is because you have not thought on these things for a long while," Galadriel said certainly.

Even though it had not been a question, Willow felt compelled to answer.  "Yes."

Galadriel nodded to herself, her gaze wandering off.  "If you learn more about or ways and lands, will this knowledge return?"

Willow shrugged uncertainly.  "Maybe bits and pieces.  I doubt we'll be able to remember enough to make much of a difference, beyond that one thing we know."

Galadriel smiled warmly.  "Good.  You will need to learn our ways.  If you stay, we can supply you with an education."

Willow looked up at the she-Elf sharply, her student's mind ready.  "What will we learn?"

"History.  Language.  Geography.  I assume that you already are proficient in arithmetic and the ways of the Common Tongue."

"Yes, my Lady."

Galadriel nodded, motioning for Willow to accompany her as she started for the steps that led back up.  "I suppose a bit of combat training would be wise as well."

Willow chuckled.  "We pretty much have that covered."

"Ah, but Elvish training in such things can be invaluable," Galadriel pointed out to the young woman.  "Still, I guess that should come much later, if at all."

Willow sighed.  "Oh, this all makes my brain hurt."

Galdriel laughed.  "Go get some rest, Willow.  You've had a very trying day.  In the light of the morning, everything will be quite different."

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A/N:  Hope you liked it.  The next chapter won't be up for a while, probably about a week.  We finally get to see Xander's thoughts!  (I love Xander, Willow, Faith, Spike, and Dawn.  Okay, I love just about every main character except Buffy!)

And it occurs to me that I've done some pretty heavy Buffy-bashing in my author's notes.  Please, ignore them.  I will not be bashing Buffy in the fic, she will not be the whiny idiot most Buffy-haters write her to be.  I'll keep her in character.  Promise.  I'll write her right.


	7. Home Sweet Flet

A/N:  Yay!  A new chapter!  Xander's POV too!  I love Xander.  He's so funny.  Anyways, thanks for all the reviews.  Expect the next chapter sometime next week, if I'm still posting here.

The unbelievable and shocking violation of our rights to post under the pennames we choose has been horribly violated.  I urge you all to voice your opinions to the site operators.  I have not yet decided whether or not I'll continue to post at this site, though I know I will NOT tolerate the penname "Flutterby3".  I am not Flutterby3, I am Flutterby.  This nickname was given to me by someone I hold very dear to me, someone who is no longer with us on this earth, and I will not be bullied into accepting this!  So this could very well be my last post at ff.net.  It definitely is the ONLY post I will make under this disgusting penname forced upon me against my will and against my rights.

If I do stop posting, I will be sure to provide notice on my profile page or in a post.  Anyone who would like to continue this story will be able to find it a Twisting the Hellmouth at .  If I change my penname, just note the title of the story.  It is the only piece on this godforsaken site that is entitled Nuvalmet Lain.

Oh, and as promised, no more Buffy-bashing.

Oh, and cookies to whoever can make a guess at what Willow saw in the Mirror.  I've already heard some interesting theories.  If someone gets it right (or close to right) I might be persuaded to include an item or word of choice (as long as I deem it acceptable and non-offensive) in an upcoming chapter.

Okay, the story.

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--Xander's POV--

Willow once told me that Oz had told her that our lives were different from other peoples.  Yep.  Good old Oz.  He could take the most complicated thing and boil it down to a sentence, ten words or less.  Things are definitely different now.  We've been in Lórien a month.  And what a month it has been.

The first thing that was established after we got here was that we would, in fact, be staying with the Elves.  That in itself is one of strangest thoughts to have ever entered my head.  But that's what we will be doing for the foreseeable future since it really was our only option.  Well, we could go somewhere else and probably die, I guess that's an option.  Not a very good one.  So we will be staying here.  It's not that bad here.  Actually, it's kinda neat.  We stay in the same rooms we woke up in that first day.  I never thought I'd have to share a room with Spike again, but this is much better than sharing a house with countless teenage girls and, well, Andrew.  The girls' room is right below us, so they're easy enough to get to.  Apparently, our rooms are in Celeborn and Galadriel's "tree house", something the Elves call "flets" or "high houses", so we're close to them if we need anything.

We have to wear the weird clothes.  Whoever had been in charge of washing out the clothes we'd come here in had lost them.  It didn't really matter, since they had been mostly ruined in the crash and fall.  Not that the Elven clothes are that bad, but it's strange.  I've decided that I hate the color blue.  Apparently, Galadriel decided blue was my color.  I'm forever being stuffed into various tunics, shirts, and robes dyed in some shade of the disgusting color.  I guess I shouldn't complain since the Lórien Elves seem to have low amounts of color in their clothes anyways.  But for all my whining, I like wearing the Elven clothing.  It's like playing dress-up every day of the week.  They're warm, too, and the boots are amazing.  They don't get wet, they can take all kinds of abuse, and yet they're the softest and most comfortable things I've ever worn.

Spike doesn't really mind one way or the other.  He wears the shirts and tunics with ease, most of the time leaving the top ties undone in some Shakespeare look he thinks is sexy.  I guess it is, since the girls and she-Elves can't help but stare at him sometimes.  He even talked someone into getting him a pair of black breeches to wear with his shirts.  I think he feels like he's gone part of the way back to his original time, though he looks more like something the crawled out of the late eighteenth century.

Giles looks all noble and scholarly in the billowing robes he got from Galadriel.  It's funny.  The first time I saw him, I couldn't help but think of _Harry Potter_.  Buffy thinks they're hilarious, and is forever stepping on the hem trying to make him trip.

The girls do not like the dresses.  At all.  I don't know why, they all four look gorgeous in them.  Graceful and elegant, the simple modest cuts do more to enhance their beauty than anything else I've ever seen them in.  They're not all even velvet anymore.  Some are in lace and silk.  Willow sort of likes them.  She would.  Faith hates them.  She still can't walk without tripping.  And I can see where they'd be in the way if a vampire crashed into Lothlórien.

Not that a vampire could get through Haldir's defense system.  That Elf is one strange cookie.  He doesn't like us much.  You don't have to be Giles to see that.  He thinks we're unnatural.  Well, I guess we are, but that's another thing.  He most definitely did not like finding Buffy and Faith dressed in a set of mine and Spike's clothes, sparring in one of the many deserted glens.  It had taken him a whole week to calm down from that one.  I guess when you're immortal things start to get a little drawn out.

That's probably why we've been here a month and haven't really done much.  Buffy, Faith, Willow, Spike, Dawn, and I just sit around most days, doing squat.  We get up, eat some of the best fruit I've had and drink some of the freshest water ever for breakfast, go to one of our rooms and be bored as a group, eat some sort of soup/ bread combination for lunch, gather together and try to pass the time by doing something like recounting what we knew of this place (which wasn't much, since all any of us could really remember was that there would be a Ring, a Fellowship, and a Hobbit called Frodo, try as we might) or have me try to teach the others Sindarin (which also didn't go well, especially when Buffy greeted Haldir by saying "melch gorgor" which roughly translated to "greedy extreme horror"), then eat some sort of venison-like meat for dinner, then go to bed.

Sometimes, Galadriel or Celeborn will come down and talk with us.  Make sure we're okay.  Galadriel has been talking a lot with Willow and, surprisingly enough, Dawn.  We figure that she's teaching them Elf-magic.  News to us that Dawn is a witch, though I remember that she worked a few spells with Willow and Tara.

We're not really prisoners, but we're not supposed to go wandering off by ourselves.  That rule has effectively kept us from seeing most of the city or meeting too many Elves.  Giles is the only one that really does anything.  He confers almost daily with Galadriel and Celeborn, trying to find a way back.  But they're "flummoxed".  Whatever Dawn did is done and there's no going back, much to all of our disappointment.  And by the royal decree of Giles, we have to learn to make do.

We're starting lessons today.  Just when I thought I was done with school, they pull me back in.  Except for the first time ever, I've got more of a head start than Willow for school.  We're supposed to learn the history of this place, how to speak Sindarin and Quenya, how to read the Tengwar and the Angerthas, different cultures of Middle-Earth, how to behave, and things like that.  It'll mostly be Galadriel teaching us, though we'll have another teacher to fall back on when she is busy.  That teacher arrived in Lórien yesterday from her home in Imladris.

Arwen Undómiel.

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A/N:  Ooh!  The gang gets to meet Arwen!  Okay, please, please, please review!


	8. Things Not Taught in Red Brick Buildings

A/N:  I'd just like to take a moment and once again thank everyone for their reviews.  Thanks so much!

Also, if you hadn't noticed, I am still posting here.  I had a very long talk with my number one fan (my sister) and I decided that a log-in change to my email log wasn't too drastic.  I continue to present myself as Flutterby and I still feel totally violated.  I actually cried when I changed my name.  Not that I'm an idiot blonde bimbo or anything, the name just has real emotional attachment with a deceased loved one and I felt like this was a small way to honor them.  Ironically enough, said loved one's anniversary of death is in about a week.  I still might leave this site, it'll be up in the air for a little while.  I've dredged up my website, which I haven't updated in forever.  Everything will be posted there (as soon as I remember how to write in html) if I decide to leave ff.net (website on my author page, but it's a giant work in progress).  I will also continue this particular story at Twisting the Hellmouth, tth.moonlitpaths.com.  It's an excellent site, anyways, and I highly recommend it to all of you, especially those who love crossover fanfiction.  I post this story there anyways and all the new chapters are up there about a day or two in advance since it's a simple matter of copy/paste.  Go check it out!

Okay, starting with this chapter, I start taking lines directly from the movie script.  The context I'm using these lines for in this chapter forces me to change them around a little, but believe me, I won't be changing around most of the movie lines, especially when we get to the events of the Fellowship.  I absolutely can't stand it when I read a crossover fic and the author decided that they were better than Tolkien and Peter Jackson and all the wonderful people who spent years tweaking the script.  Come on, people, it ain't that hard to pop in the DVD and turn on the captions to get the right lines.  Hell, it isn't even hard to find a good transcript of the movies online.  Okay, end bitching rant.  That said, though, I find myself forced to change around some things, mainly because of context like the lines in this chapter.  May the Valar forgive me ;).

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"C'mon, Dawn, up and at 'em!"

Dawn Summers very eloquently raised her head, squinted, and grunted, "Wha--?"

"Time to get up," Willow said way too cheerfully at that early hour.  The witch was bouncing up and down on her toes, looking as if Christmas had come early.  "C'mon, things to learn!"

"Oh, yeah," Dawn muttered as she tossed off the soft furry blanket and pushed herself reluctantly to her feet.  She yawned and stretched, scowling at the already dressed and perky witch in front of her.  "We meeting that Arwen chick today?"

Buffy, who was also up and ready, though not looking too happy about it, nodded from her perch on her bed across the room.  "Yeah.  Apple?"

Dawn wrinkled her nose at the sight of the red fruit.  All they had had for breakfast for weeks were trays upon trays of fruit.  "What else we got?"

Faith, who was supporting the girls' ritual breakfast tray on her lap while she lounged in her bed still dressed in her light cotton nightgown, shifted the contents around.  "Assorted fruits and bread.  Water."

Dawn sighed and resignedly motioned for Buffy to toss her the apple.  "Same old, same old."

Buffy nodded in agreement as she sent the apple flying towards her sister.  "What I wouldn't give for McDonald's hotcakes."

Dawn watched the red orb sail through the air, then caught it deftly in her right hand.  "You and me both."

"I want Fruit Loops," Faith muttered as she tore off a piece of bread, glaring at it in contempt.

Willow was not amused at the cute morning conversation.  She stomped her foot, giving Faith and Dawn frustrated looks.  "Get dressed!  Giles will kill us if we're late."

Grudgingly, Dawn dropped her half-eaten apple and turned to her trunk and pushed it open.  Another flowing white nightgown was perched on top of the pile of clothing the trunk held.  Pushing it aside, Dawn began to rifle through the dress choices she had, disregarding the fancier one made of lace, finally deciding on a deep purple dress made of some fabric that was like silk, but not.

She sighed and stood, pulling the dress over her head in the sloppy but easy way she had mastered over the past month, turning to Buffy as soon as she was done.  "Lace me up?"

Buffy nodded, rising from her seat and coming up behind her sister.  Dawn took a deep breath to prepare herself, pulling her hair over her shoulder out of the blonde's way.  Buffy quickly began tightening the strings along the back of the dress.

Dawn flinched as her sister put too much strength behind the task.  "Hey!  Not so tight!  This is a dress, not a corset!"

Buffy scowled at her sister, but was evidently gentler in tightening the laces.  After a few awkward moments, she tied the strings near her sister's hips.  "Done."

"OW!  Watch it, Red!"

Apparently, Faith was not happy with Willow's lacing as Dawn was with Buffy's.

After preventing Faith from killing Willow, the four young women exited the room and hurried up the steps towards Celeborn's study, where the group would be, well, studying.

Giles, Xander, and Spike were already seated among the long white table that had been brought into the room, Giles flipping through one of the few books that was just maps, since all words were written in either the flowing Elven script or the strange runic language.

Xander looked up from the map he was looking at over Giles' shoulder and smiled at his friends.  "Hey, gals.  Took your time, didn't you?"

Buffy shrugged as she collapsed into the free seat next to Xander, smirking slightly as she noticed that he was dressed in yet another blue tunic.  "We're here, we're on time, be happy."

Giles rolled his eyes somehow without taking his gaze from the book.  "Barely on time."

Dawn shrugged much as her sister had, looking around and noting the absence of the Elves.  "Don't see Galadriel or this Arwen chick here yet."

Xander snorted at the young brunette as she sat down across from her sister, reaching a hand up to adjust his slightly askew eye-patch.  "This 'Arwen chick' happens to be one of the most respected she-Elves alive.  Arwen Undómiel, Evenstar of her people."

"Undómiel…" Willow muttered to herself as she sank into the seat beside Giles, eyes glazing over as she retreated into her thoughts.  A moment later, she gave a mighty jerk and slammed her hand down onto the table.  "I remember this!"

Faith raised an eyebrow as she leaned out the door to check for some sign of the two she-Elves they were waiting for.  "You actually remember something beyond the words 'Hobbit' and 'Ring'?"

"Yeah, this was like my favorite part," Willow rushed out excitedly.  "Arwen and the King-person-guy-thing."

"King-person-guy-thing?" Spike repeated, his first acknowledgement of the girls' presence.

"Yeah," Willow continued as if she hadn't been interrupted.  "The guy she's going to marry.  He--"

"Don't say it," Giles cut her off sharply.  Willow's gaze snapped up, looking at Giles as if he had killed her favorite puppy.  Giles sighed, dropping the book in his hands and turning to face the redhead apologetically but firmly.  "Bad enough you remember.  Just leave it alone and don't tell us."

Faith jerked herself back inside, running over to the table and sliding into a seat between Dawn and Spike.

Dawn gave the Slayer a worried glance.  "Faith?"

"Just made it," Faith panted as the curtains at the doorway parted.

Galadriel glided into the room, dressed in her usual white glowing gown.  The Elf Lady smiled at the assembled group, smile widening when Spike, Giles, and, after a very indiscreet nudge from Giles, Xander rose to their feet.  She nodded deeply to them.  "Good morning to all of you.  I trust you slept well."

Giles bowed, mimicking the traditional Elvish bow they had all seen countless times over the past month.  "Like a dream as always."

"This is my granddaughter, Arwen Undómiel of Imladris," Galadriel announced stepping aside for the Elf-maiden to enter.

Arwen Undómiel entered the room with as much grace as Galadriel.  She was beautiful, but different from Galadriel, the first Elf any of the Scooby Gang had seen with the dark hair of her ancestry.  It fell all around her smooth, fair, and flawless creamy skin, setting a stark contrast to her grey eyes, eyes that held such knowledge and wisdom as all Elven eyes seemed to do.  She nodded to the group.  "Mae govannen."

Giles, Spike, and Xander made no move to greet the Lady.  Dawn frowned for a moment as she tried to figure out if the three men were even breathing.  Finally exasperated at their lack of courtesy, she rose to her feet and smiled at the she-Elf.  "Hi."

Galadriel ignored the groups reaction to her granddaughter as she and Arwen took the two empty seats between Dawn and Faith and across from Xander and Giles, motioning for the men to be seated.  "I've informed Arwen of your circumstances and she has agreed to help educate you in the ways of Middle-Earth."

"Goody," Dawn muttered under her breath, not too keen at the idea of studying the strange ways of the world around them.

Buffy, hearing Dawn, gave her sister a pointed look before turning to Arwen and smiling brightly.  "Hi, I'm Buffy Summers.  Thanks for doing this for us."

"It is my pleasure, Buffy Summers," Arwen replied graciously.

"This is my sister, Dawn," Buffy said, motioning across the table to the younger Summers sitting next to Galadriel.

Dawn shifted uncomfortable and smiled at the she-Elf.  "Hello."

"Suilad," Arwen replied.

"Mae govannen, Arwen Undómiel," Xander said loudly, proud of his minimal know;edge of Sindarin.  "Non Xander Harris."

Arwen smiled at Xander, eyes sparkling in amusement.  "I was told that one of the men could speak Sindarin.  It is a pleasant surprise.  Less I'll have to teach you."

Xander blushed and looked down at his hands.  "I'm not very good at it."

"You will be," Arwen reassured the young man.  "A small start is much better than no start at all."

Giles nodded at the younger she-Elf as regally as he could in all his Britishness.  "Rupert Giles, pleasure to meet you."

"You, too, Master Giles," Arwen replied just as regal.

"Willow Rosenberg," Willow mumbled shyly, not looking up at Arwen.

Spike then nodded.  "Spike, luv."

"Master Spike, Lady Willow" Arwen replied in acknowledgement.

"I'm Faith," Faith told the Lady next to her.

Arwen patted Faith's arm in a friendly way.  "Good to meet you, Faith."

"Well," Giles began, motioning around at his charges.  "Let's get started, shall we?"

"I thought we might start with history," Arwen suggested, choosing one of the books from the stack and opening it in front of her.  "My grandmother tells me that you should know a bit, or have some vague idea."

"Very vague," Willow muttered.

Arwen nodded slightly, looking down at the book.  "Well.  The history of Middle-Earth is both intricate and vitally important.  It is divided into three Ages.  The First Age was mainly the Age that shaped Middle-Earth, when the Eldar first came out of the West and Morgoth, the Enemy, was in power of these lands."

"Morgoth?" Buffy repeated in confusion.

So for the next two hours, Arwen and Galadriel explained to the Scoobies the events of the First Age of Middle-Earth, discussing specific things like the fall of Morgoth, the coming of the Eldar and of Valinor, the rise of Sauron, the fall of Númenor, and the founding of the realms in exile.

The humans sat quietly listening as the two she-Elves recounted a dark history.  When they were done, they continued to sit in silence for many moments, soaking the knowledge in.

Finally, Willow roughly cleared her throat.  "Wow."

"That is, of course, a very basic recounting," Arwen explained passively.  "We will be going over the lore of the First Age more in depth in the coming days."

"Jeez," Dawn muttered to herself.  "I thought the Dark Age sounded rough."

"But you didn't say anything about this Ring that everyone seems so uptight about," Buffy pointed out to the two Elven women.  "Or are we not supposed to know about that?"

Arwen looked to her grandmother.  They both gazed at one another for the longest time, as if trying to decide on something.  Finally, Galadriel nodded and turned to the group of humans, sighing wearily.  "It is time to discuss the darker history of this world."

"_Darker_?" Dawn repeated in disbelief.  "You mean there was a time here darker than all of that?!"

Galadriel nodded sadly.  "Yes.  It is time you understood in full."

The older she-Elf paused for a moment, as if gathering the strength to tell them whatever it was she had to tell them.  After a moment, she began.  "It began with the forging of the Great Rings, the Rings of Power.  Three were given to the Elves, immortal, wisest and fairest of all beings.  Seven to the Dwarf-lords, great miners and craftsmen of the mountain halls.  And nine.  Nine rings were gifted to the race of Men, who, above all else, desire power.  For within these rings was bound the strength and will to govern each race.  But they were all of them deceived.  For another ring was made."

"The big evil ring that everyone is afraid of?" Faith asked in concern.

Galadriel nodded, her expression becoming graver.  "In the land of Mordor, in the fires of Mount Doom, the Dark Lord Sauron forged in secret a Master Ring, to control all others.  And into this Ring he poured his cruelty, his malice, and his will to dominate all life.  One Ring to rule them all."

Arwen nodded even though she knew the story well.  "There is a verse that tells the tale:

_Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,_

_Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,_

_Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,_

_One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne_

_In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie._

_One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,_

_One Ring to bring them all and in the Darkness bind them_

_In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie_."

"One by one, the Free Lands of Middle-Earth fell to the power of the Ring, the peoples coming to darkness," Galadriel continued.  The Scoobies could do nothing except listen, their attention captured by the horrifying tale.  "But there were some who resisted.  A Last Alliance of Men and Elves marched against the armies of Mordor.  And on the slopes of Mount Doom, they fought for the freedom of Middle-Earth.

"Victory was near.  But the power of the Ring could not be undone.  Gil-galad, leader of the Elves, was slain, and Elendil, King of Men, fell to the power of the Ring, and Narsil, the King's sword, broke beneath him.  It was in this moment, when all hope had faded, that Isildur, son of the King, took up his father's sword.  With the broken blade, he cut the Ring from Sauron's hand.  Sauron, the Enemy of the Free Peoples of Middle-Earth, was defeated."

Galadriel paused here, letting the group absorb this information.  After a moment, Buffy gave the Elf Lady a confused look.  "That's good, right?"

"What happened to the Ring?" Spike asked anxiously, knowing that things were never that simple.

Galadriel gave the ex-vampire a small smile before her look turned grim.  "The Ring passed to Isildur, who had this one chance to destroy evil forever.  But the hearts of Men are easily corrupted.  And the Ring of Power has a will of its own.  Isildur took the Ring as his own.  It betrayed Isildur to his death.  In the Gladden Fields he perished, as did all of his heirs save his son, Valandil, who was but a child.  Valandil was taken along with the shards of Narsil to Imladris, where they were hidden away from the Enemy."

"Whoa," Faith interrupted, her eyes glazed over in deep thought as she stared at the table.  "Slow down and freeze.  The Enemy?  Sauron?  Didn't he die?"

"He was defeated, not destroyed," Arwen clarified quietly.  "His life force is bound to the Ring and the Ring survived.  Survives to this day, if what you've said is true."

"So what happened to the Ring?" Dawn asked, not sure that she wanted to know the answer.

"Lost," Galadriel explained simply.  "Lost in the Gladden Fields where Isildur and his house fell, where the line of the kings of Men was broken.  And some things that should not have been forgotten were lost.  History became legend.  Legend became myth.  And for these many years the Ring has passed out of all knowledge."

Galadriel sighed, in that moment looking older than any of the Scoobies had ever seen her look.  "Darkness is creeping back into the forests of the world.  Rumor grows of a Shadow in the East.  Whispers of a nameless fear.

"The world is changed.  I feel it in the water.  I feel it in the earth.  I smell it in the air.  Much that once was is lost.  For none now live who remember it.  Only us and our friends of old know the whole story."

"That is…wow," Faith muttered as she went over everything in her mind.  After a moment of silence, she turned to Xander.  "You know where this Ring is now?"

Xander, who had gone a bit pale at the story, shrugged uncomfortably.  "I can't give you like an exact address, but yeah, I know.  I think Wills and Giles do, too."

"I don't remember the cartoon being that scary and with the dire and all," Dawn muttered with a shudder.

"Think on the darker times no more today," Arwen said gently, trying to reassure the group.  "Let us move on to more recent times."

"So, what year is it anyway?" Buffy asked, trying to regain the composure she lost.  "I mean, no one ever really said."

"It is the year 2979 of the Third Age," Galadriel answered.  Willow's hand shot into the air.  "Yes, Willow?"

"How long is a year?" Willow asked.

Arwen raised an eyebrow.  "By what Reckoning?"

"Uh, the most widely used," Willow replied uncertainly.

"Twelve months," Arwen answered swiftly.

"Twelve months?" Spike repeated in confusion.  "Like January, February, March…"

Arwen frowned at the unfamiliar terms.  "There are three kinds of month names: Elvish month names in Quenya, which are the most widely used, Elvish month names in Sindarin, and Hobbit month names."

Giles, who had been very quiet during the previous discussions, looked up sharply.  "Does the year begin in winter or summer?"

"Winter," Galadriel answered.  "A few days after the solstice."

Giles sighed in relief.  "Just like our calendar, thank god."

Galadriel nodded.  "There are 365 days, five hours, forty-eight minutes, and forty-six seconds in the year according to Shire Reckoning."

"And by Eldar…reckoning?" Spike asked uneasily.

"There are 52, 596 days in the Eldar yén," Arwen replied.

Spike's mouth opened and closed a few times before he gave a stiff nod.  "Right, then."

Dawn was lost.  "What different…reckonings are there?"

"There is Shire Reckoning, the Reckoning of Rivendell, King's Reckoning, and Steward's Reckoning," Arwen explained.

Willow raised an eyebrow.  "Which one will we use?"

"The ones you will need to know to survive in most of Middle-Earth are the Steward's Reckoning and Shire Reckoning," Arwen explained to the confused group.  "You might want to learn the ways of the Eldar as well, if you plan on remaining amongst us for any substantial amount of time."

"Okay, okay, okay," Buffy said, rubbing her temples as if she were getting a headache.  "Let's…do calendars tomorrow."

Arwen raised an eyebrow.  "Back to history?"

"No," Buffy answered quickly.  "I don't think I could handle any more of that today."

"Would you rather move on to language?" Galadriel asked, pulling out a different book from the stack on the table.

"Yes," Buffy replied enthusiastically.  "Language is good.  You tell us a word, we learn what it means.  That's not so confusing."

Then, remembering her French class days, Buffy turned to look down the table at Giles.  "Right?"

"Which language shall we start with?" Galadriel asked as she flipped through the pages of the book.

Xander frowned.  "There's more than one?"

"Well, we're speaking Westron, or Common Speech," Arwen explained.  "Among the Eldar, we speak many languages, but the most common two are Quenya, High-Elven, and Sindarin, Grey-Elven.  There are the languages of the Hobbits and Dwarves, but you will not really need them but for a few words which are merely names of places or people.  There is also Black Speech, but you will find no one here willing to teach that of the few who are able to do so."

Spike sighed in relief as he relaxed into his chair.  "So just two languages, then."

Arwen nodded.  "But you will need to learn to write in the Tengwar and the Angerthas."

"Skip," Buffy replied immediately.

Arwen frowned at the Slayer.  "We cannot keep skipping things just because you deem them too difficult to think on.  You must learn these things in order to survive."

Buffy gave the she-Elf a look that defeated all arguments.  "_Skip_."

"What of geography?" Galadriel suggested.

Arwen nodded in agreement.  "Yes.  Will you devote a little time to learn that?"

"The geography of Middle-Earth?" Giles asked, looking down at the book of maps that had captured his attention earlier.

Galadriel nodded.  "Yes."

Buffy shrugged easily.  "How hard can that be?"

"Middle-Earth is divided into several regions, most self-sustaining and remote, in the North," Arwen began, taking the book that giles had been so interested in and flipping it open.  "To the South, there are three distinctive countries: Rohan, Gondor, and Mordor.  I have several maps that should make it easy for you to understand--"

"Let's do etiquette!" Buffy groaned, her haed falling into her hands.  "Please!"

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A/N:  Once again, I apologize for twisting Galadriel's speech a little bit.  I hope you realized why I needed to change it around.

Also, I know I left a two-hour long gaping hole in the middle of that, but I really, really, really didn't have the strength or the will to go into the history of the First Age.  Those of you who have the books or The Silmarillion know what I'm talking about.  Those of you who don't, really don't need to know for the purposes of this fic.  I mean, not many people could exist on Earth without knowing a bit about Ancient Greece, Ancient Egypt, and Rome (though that isn't a very good comparison).  I couldn't really ignore the First Age, especially if the Scoobs were going to learn the history of the world they're in and expect to understand it.  If you want to know, the cliff-notes version is in the beginning of Appendix A in The Return of the King and the long version is basically what The Silmarillion is about.  Go check it out if you want.  If you're not interested, you don't have to know for this fic.

Up next, see Haldir's thoughts.  It's incredibly short, so it will be up tomorrow or the next day, more like a chapter-let like Giles' POV was.

Hope you guys liked!  Please review!


	9. Idle Threats

A/N:  As promised, an incredibly short chapter, but an important one that delves into Haldir's thoughts.  It might take me a week or so to get the next chapter out.  Sorry, but the real world calls.

Oh, and someone asked again if the group was going to make the actual events of the books.  The answer is **_YES_**.  Though I'm not telling how.  You're just going to have to wait and see.  But they aren't gods or anything, they're human.  Of course, for those that were paying attention, being human isn't exactly as "normal" as most people want it to be in my world…

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--Haldir's POV--

They are not like any normal beings.  That is for sure.  They are strange and unnatural.  I do not understand why the Lord has granted them permission to stay here.  It is wrong.  It goes against all of our laws.  Besides, they are dangerous.  Why am I the only one who sees it?

The men are weak.  Weak physically, for sure.  The dark-haired boy has only one eye.  The older man has to be aging beyond his prime.  But their real weakness is their weakness of will.

They take orders from the women.  They speak with them as equals.  If they were wise women, like the Lady of Light, it would be understandable, but the women are young and arrogant.  They expect to be treated like this by all males and are insulted when they are not.  They wish to dress more like the men.  They have no respect for a woman's proper place.

The women fight as well.  I've caught them at it, time and again.  Fighting with each other and fighting with the light-haired man.  Most times it is the dark-haired woman and the blonde woman who I find fighting, though the redhead and the younger girl have been at it as well with the one-eyed boy.  The older man, the man who claims guardianship, lets them do it.  Encourages it.

I, of course, have forbidden the blonde and brunette of doing such things.  It is not proper.  Not only that, I do not want them training.  They fight well enough already and they could easily become a threat to our way of life.

I see those threats and others in them.  They are being educated by the Evenstar.  Taught the ways of our people.  They are learning our tongues and our lands and our past.  It is dangerous, too dangerous for the likes of them.  They could use that knowledge that we give so freely against us.  Even now, I see their views ever so slightly in the Evenstar, especially as she becomes closer.  She holds the dark-haired woman in friendship.

I do not like this.  They eat our food and live under our protection for what purpose?  They know nothing that can help us.  I believe we should have shipped them off to the lands of Men long ago, for that is what they are most like, no matter what kinds of blood they may possess.

I will watch them.  I will watch them and do what I must to protect my people.

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Please Review!  PLEASE!


	10. Finding the Inside

A/N:  After over a month of writer's block, I present you with Chapter 10:

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Three months.  It had been three months since they had left Earth for Middle-Earth.  Except now, they knew more about it.  Things that jumbled and ran together and really hurt when one thought about it too much.

Their "schooling" was progressing very slowly.  It was hard to suddenly be thrust into something so strange.  Even Xander was having a rough time.  Anyone, even the most die-hard Tolkienist, would have been scraping by.  The culture, the language, the way of life…the world as they knew it had ended and they had to learn to cope with the new one.

Buffy and Faith were not handling their demoted status to "women".  They were women, yes, but being a medieval woman was something very foreign to them.  Add to the fact that neither of them was coping well with their lessons and you had two very disgruntled Slayers.  Buffy didn't like anything to do with the lessons, but was making very slow but steady progress.  Faith, on the other hand, peaked on the second day of the lessons, then it was all downhill from there.

Willow was on unsteady ground.  Her magic on Earth had been very unstable at best.  Elven magic was proving to be very different and extremely difficult.  It was almost the opposite of what she had known, forcing her to unlearn what she had thought to be true.  It was like learning magics in its rawest form, tempering it to her will.  It was trying.  The young witch barely had the strength to devote even a small portion of energy towards Arwen's more practical lessons.  Yet Galadriel kept pushing her, almost daring her to reach her full potential.

Dawn was a witch.  This revelation was very surprising to the Scoobies.  Like Willow, Dawn was taken by Galadriel to learn Elven magic.  Since she had never studied before, Dawn progressed differently than Willow.  It was quicker in the sense that she did not have to unlearn anything, but far slower since she didn't have nowhere near Willow's natural ability.  Willow was connected to the magic.  Dawn's power came from being the Key.

Dawn's Key-ness, while revered by the Elves in a way where she was looked upon more respectfully than Buffy, did not surface directly again.  Try as the young girl might, she could not will her and her friends home.  She even found an opening for the portal.  Yet, it only served to create a rip much like the one Glory had created.  It had taken all of Willow, Celeborn, Galadriel, and Dawn's power to close the rift again.  After that incident, Dawn could no longer be found picking the odd scab.

Xander, Spike, and Giles found themselves in a position much like Buffy and Faith.  They had been elevated to "men".  Medieval-type men.  They were supposed to be strong, good hunters, providers for the four women they claimed as kin.  But…it was Xander, Spike, and Giles.  While good fighters, they weren't the most overlordly of all.  Spike was really the strongest, but he more often than not stepped aside.  Giles was a great leader mentally but not physically.  And Xander…well…

It did not help that they were still pseudo-prisoners.  They could go nowhere beyond Galadriel and Celeborn's flet.  They were discouraged from interacting with anyone but Galadriel, Celeborn, and Arwen.  They could not train in any type of combat.  They could barely even get in a good workout.  Haldir was their constant guard, ever watchful and distrusting.

That was why on a bright, sunny afternoon sometime around what Giles had calculated to be Labor Day the humans could be found sitting in their pseudo-classroom under the pretense of studying.  But they were not studying.

Buffy was sitting next to the window, openly watching Haldir stare at the group.  Willow was curled up on the floor playing with the hem of her dress as she daydreamed.  Xander seemed to be making a strange tower-like structure out of several of the unused books lying on the table.  Spike was leaning against the wall, picking at something underneath his left middle finger nail.  Dawn was staring at the wall straight in front of her, quill dripping ink all over the Sindarin translations Arwen had asked her to do.  Giles was sitting at the table, idly thumbing through a thick tome.  And Faith was supposed to be reading a book on the history of the Second Age.

Though Faith found the history to be vaguely interesting, trying to read the book require more thought than she cared to put into any task at the moment.  First of all, it was written in the tengwar, which was almost impossible for Faith to read, given its strange curling script that seemed to look identical to everything else.  Second, Once the letters were translated from the tengwar script to the regular Latin alphabet that Faith was more familiar with, it was still written in Sindarin, a language Faith was not picking up on as well as Willow and Xander.  In fact, besides the brainiac witch and the dorky zeppo, no one, not even Giles, was even close to being perfectly fluent in the language and they had devoted most of their classtime to that very thing.

Faith groaned, trying to force the fuzzy writing in front of her eyes to de-fuzz.  It didn't work.  She sighed again, looking up to the group.  "Bored now."

Willow jerked rather violently out of her daydream, dropping the book in her hands and scooting her seat around to face Faith.  "Please don't say that!  I hate that!"

Willow's outburst caused the rest of their group to shake off their boredom induced hazes.  They all turned to glare at Faith, who was responsible for their return to the conscious world.

"Oh, c'mon," Faith mumbled, shrugging the group's looks off.  " I'm just having a bit of fun."

"She's right," Buffy agreed after a moment, turning away from the still frowning Haldir, who, since he was standing several stairsteps away from the flet-level, had not noticed the revival of the group of humans.  "Way bored."

Xander sighed, pushing the book-tower over onto the table.  "Well, what can we do?"

"Nothing," Giles reminded as he went back to thumbing through the book in front of him.

Spike pushed himself to his feet, rolling his shoulders to work out his stiff muscles.  "I feel like killing something."

"I think I've forgotten how," Buffy muttered unhappily.

Dawn grunted, watching as yet another drop of ink fell onto her roll of parchment.  "Don't suppose Galadriel might have a television and satellite hidden in that lacy dress of hers?"

Giles shook his head, not looking up.  "Doubtful."

"I need some wrestling," Spike announced, locking his fingers together and stretching his arms out in front of him.

Dawn snorted.  "Need to get in your macho-man antics for today?  Seeing how you're wearing tights and all--"

Faith's book fell to the floor with a loud thump.  "I've got an idea!"

***~~~***

An hour and several complicated Haldir distractions later, Buffy, Faith, Willow, and Spike were standing on a hill about a half a mile out of Caras Galadhon.  Xander and Dawn had been given the mission to distract Haldir, a mission which they had taken completely seriously.  Dawn had runoff South towards Silverlode River, and Xander was leading Haldir and several of his guards on a wild goose chase after the girl.  Meanwhile, Dawn doubled back to Celeborn and Galadriel's flet, where she was to distract Celeborn and Galadriel.  Giles remained in the study, not wanting to have any part of the hair-brained scheme.

The ruse, however, gave the other four humans just wanted they wanted: privacy.  Without Haldir's ever-watchful eye, they could do what they had all been itching to do for weeks on end: train.

Spike smirked at the three girls as they emerged from the bushes surrounding the open hilltop.  No longer clad in the frilly dresses that had been their captives for those many weeks, they were now wearing more freeing garments of the men.  Buffy was wearing a pair of Xander's rolled up leggings and a shirt that practically swallowed her petite form.  Willow had a spare pair of Giles leggings hitched up with several pins and covered her tope with the layered bodice of her thick underwear.  Faith had tied Spike's second pair of breeches around her waist and, like Willow, had opted to sport her lacy camisole-like under-bodice.

Buffy pushed the large sleeves of Xander's shirt up her arms, grinning wryly at Spike.  "You ready to do this, Chips-Ahoy?"

Spike smiled slyly, pulling his own shirt over his head, leaving him only in his breeches.  "I'm ready if you are, Slayer."

"How are we going to do this?" Willow asked, a bit nervous about being the only non-super-strong person in the group.

"I think it'd be best if you took the role of Watcher at first, Red," Faith suggested to the witch.  "You watch us all three go and note what needs to be worked on."

"Yeah, we're all a little rusty and we probably need a lot of work," Buffy agreed as she stepped out onto the hilltop.

"Speak for yourself, Fluffy," Spike murmured lowly.

Buffy rolled her eyes as she turned to survey their surroundings.  The hill itself was unusually high up for the forest and was covered with very few trees.  The hilltop itself was bare and open, except for the beautiful flowing grass and two beautiful plants that were like feathers to there bare feet.  "Hey, where are we anyways?"

"Some hill that Arwen showed me a few weeks ago," Faith replied as she stretched her arms out.  "Cerin Amroth."

Willow sighed, looking out over the world around them.  "You can see most of Lórien from up here."

"Yeah, it's really nice, huh?" Faith replied, with a small smile.  "Arwen really loves it here.  Something about the elanor and niphredil and the sunset."

"Way nice," Buffy agreed, turning to face her sister-Slayer.  "So, everyone for themselves?"

Faith shrugged as she took a step towards the blonde Slayer.  "However you want to work this, B."

Buffy nodded, stepping closer to Faith.  "In that case…"

Faith ducked and rolled as Buffy lunged at her.

***~~~***

Twenty minutes later, they were still going strong.  Spike, Faith, and Buffy had swapped in and out, going one-on-one and two-on-one in about every combination the three could come up with.  Willow watched them intently as they fell into old sparring routines, noting their weaknesses and calling them out to them.  Every now and again the young witch would get bored and throw in the odd curse to liven things up.

Spike stepped back from the two Slayers for a small breather, wiping the sweat from his brow as he watched the two girls go at it.  They were still just as good as they were during the fight with the First.  Neither had lost her instincts and both were still able to kick his ass three ways from Sunday.

Suddenly, Willow screamed, breaking the group from their long-ago routine.  Spike turned to scowl at the witch, but was caught off guard as he spotted an arrow flying straight for him.

"Spike!" Buffy shouted in horror as she grabbed the ex-vampire, pulling him to the ground.

The arrow narrowly missed the pair and embedded itself in the tree trunk behind them.

Faith jumped to her feet, glaring as Haldir niched another arrow into place in his bow, training it right at her.

Haldir pulled the bowstring back.  "You are fighting.  _Again_!"

"What the hell do you think your doing?!" Willow shouted angrily from where she was being held by two of Haldir's guards.  "You could have killed them!"

"That was a warning!" Haldir replied angrily, not taking his eyes off of the three humans before him.  "Explain yourselves!"

Buffy, who was still on the ground with Spike, pushed herself to her feet.  Spike followed quickly and moved to restrain the Slayer, but was shocked into place when Buffy simply shook her head calmly.  "We've explained this to you, Hal."

Haldir's eyes flashed angrily,     though his demeanor remained cool.  "My name is not Hal!"

"Listen, we were just sparring!" Spike tried to reason with the Elf.  "No one was getting hurt."

"That does not matter!" replied one of the Elves holding Willow.  "We are not training you to fight for a reason!"

Buffy rolled her eyes.  "Yeah, you're scared, we got the memo."

"I am not scared of you, woman," Haldir all but spat at Buffy.

Buffy, who had been eerily calm up until that point, lost it.  She froze, glaring at the Elf icily.  "Oh, hell no.  You did not just call me '_woman_'."

Haldir raised his nose in the air.  "It is what you are."

Buffy huffed, then stomped her foot in the ground like a child.  "I can't stand this chauvinistic attitude you butt-monkeys seem to have!"

"What is your problem?" Faith asked, looking pointedly at the arrow that was still aimed at her.  "Huh?  We've never done anything to you!"

Haldir, noticing Faith's gaze, relaxed the bowstring and lowered his weapon, though he did not put it away.  "You are not of here and you do not have the right to live in such an honorable land as Lórien."

"Yeah, yeah, we hear you," Willow muttered loudly.  "You're pissed."

"Listen, we can't change your opinion of us," Buffy told the Elf in a tone of voice that left no room for argument.  "We never can.  But we're not gonna hide and pretend to be something we aren't to make you feel better.  This is what we are, it's what we do.  Deal."

Haldir gave Buffy a dark look before turning and motioning for the other two Elves to release the witch.  He started down the hill, calling over his shoulder.  "You will return to Caras Galadhon with us.  Now."

The foursome exchanged looks before Buffy shrugged and made to follow the three Elves.  Faith went next, followed by Spike and Willow.

"Faith, here," Spike muttered, trusting her bunched up dress into her hands along with Buffy's.  She took them both with a sigh, handing Buffy's to her sister-Slayer.

Up ahead, Haldir was hanging to the rear of the group, watching the four humans carefully while muttering under his breath, "Lumren, morn adaineth.  Aglonn raug dess."

(Shady, dark women.  Defiled demon-women.)

Catching the Elf's words, Buffy huffed again, snapping her hands to her hips angrily.  "Daro eithad ammen, Haldir!"

(Stop insulting us, Haldir!)

The Elves froze.  Then, very slowly, Haldir turned to glare at the woman who was speaking to him in his native tongue.

Willow gave the Elf a weak smile, trying to appeal to the Elf's good side, if he had one.  "Alcerim iest gwatho lín pâd.  Im, anim, meleth Lórien a i Eldar."

(We do not wish to soil your ways.  I, myself, love Lórien and the Elves.)

But this only served to make Haldir even angrier.  "Alnal edhellen!"

(You all are not Elvish!)

"Istam," Buffy answered in a low voice, quietly, as if understanding the Elf's resentment.

(We know.)

Spike looked up to say something, then saw something from the corner of his eye.  Reacting purely on instinct, the former vampire sprung towards the Elf, knocking him down just before a large, grizzly axe flew past.

The axe missed Spike and the Elf by inches, hurtling past them to disappear into the brush of Lórien.  As soon as Spike hit the ground, he sat back up, looking towards where the axe had come from.

Buffy saw it first.  "Spike!  Haldir!"

The blonde Slayer dove close to the pair lying helpless on the forest floor.  She hit the disgusting demon-like creature that was prepared to strike them with a sword in mid-leap.  The girl and beast were knocked back several feet from impact and hit the ground struggling with each other.

Willow screamed as six more of the creatures appeared from the trees.  The two Elven guards Haldir had brought with him reached for their bows, but were too slow.  One took a mangled arrow in the stomach while the other was forced away from the group.

Haldir turned to the surviving Elf.  "Gwanno!  Tuvo tulu!"

(Go!  Find help!)

Seven Orcs.  An Elf.  Two Slayers.  A former vampire.  A witch.

The orcs never stood a chance.

***~~~***

Faith frowned at the body at her feet.  "What is it?"

"Glamog," Haldir breathed, gazing down at the creature in shock.

Buffy furrowed her brow in confusion.  "Huh?"

"Orc," Willow explained as she wrinkled her nose, her disgust evident.

Buffy looked to Willow in surprise.  "Those icky evil demons?"

"They're not demons," Willow replied as Spike reached out and began to turn the Orc over.  "Just…oh, eww!"

Willow jumped back in disgust as a long smear of black blood splattered onto her pants from the open wound in the Orc's chest.

Spike glanced up at the witch in amusement.  "You've killed how many creatures now, pet?"

Willow shrugged unhappily as she rubbed her leg against a tree to try and wipe the blood off.  "Doesn't make it less gross."

Buffy shook her head and squatted down beside Haldir.  The Elf looked a little shaken, which translated to big shaken since he was an Elf.  Buffy reached out and tentatively placed her hand on his shoulder in a supportive gesture.  "You okay?"

The Elf continued to stare at the Orcs for several moments, then let his gaze slide over to the Elf that had been shot with an arrow.

Buffy saw this and gently squeezed his shoulder to try and gain his attention.  "Haldir?"

It worked somewhat, since Haldir turned from the dead Elf to look at Buffy.  But the Elf did not make any sign of acknowledgement.  He just stared at the Slayer.

Buffy bit her lip in concern as she stared into the eyes of the Elf.  "Nach mae?"

(Are you well?)

"You saved my life," Haldir replied slowly looking from Buffy to Faith, then to Willow and Spike.

Faith shrugged the comment off.  "It's what we do."

Haldir lowered his head in the traditional Elven bow.  "Díheno nin."

(Forgive me.)

Buffy's mouth dropped open in shock.  Very slowly, she turned to the others.  Faith didn't look any less amazed then she appeared.  Willow was staring at the Elf, wide-eyed, while Spike just shrugged.  Buffy turned back to Haldir, who was still bowed, and cleared her throat uncomfortably.  "Don't sweat it."

"Haldir?"

The Elf and four humans turned to see a large group comprised of Elves and the rest of the Scoobies hurrying their way.  Spike could see the Elf you had gone for help as well as Galadriel, Arwen, Celeborn, Giles, Xander, Dawn, and about fifteen Elven warriors.

Haldir bowed to the arriving Elves.  "Hir'nín.  Híril'nín."

Celeborn took in the scene.  One Elf was dead.  So were seven Orcs.  Other than some sweat and the blood of their enemies, Haldir, Buffy, Faith, Spike, and Willow were fine.  "What has occurred here?"

"Umm…orc," Buffy said uncertainly, pointing towards the Orc body at her feet.

One of the Elven warriors Spike recognized as Haldir's friend Melibrim frowned hard.  "Orcs this far in Lórien?"

Celeborn took a step towards Buffy, eyeing the slacks and shirt she wore with distaste.  "Why are you dressed in such a way?"

"Um…" Buffy sputtered, turning to Willow for help.

It was then that Spike noticed that none of the male Elves would look at the three women.  Smirking at the chivalrous courtesy, he turned to Willow, who had gone as white as a sheet.  She stood there, in Giles' pants and her under bodice, opening and closing her mouth repeatedly.  "Well…uh…it's…uh…we…um…"

"You were sparring again," Galadriel finished neutrally.

Giles stepped forward from the crowd, disappointment lining his face.  "Buffy…I thought you were just out tormenting Haldir."

Buffy shrugged miserably, eyes fixed firmly on the ground in front of her.  Giles sighed, then turned to Celeborn and Galadriel.  "My Lord, my Lady, I apologize for their behavior."

Celeborn acknowledged the apology with a small nod.  Giles turned to glare at his four charges.  "It will not happen again."

"Sorry," Buffy muttered in a small voice.

"I apologize," Willow replied much more articulately.

"Yeah," Faith agreed reluctantly.

Spike watched the three strong, fierce women lower their eyes and humbly apologize.  Suddenly, none of it was right.  "Well, I don't!"

Everyone, from Dawn to Arwen to Haldir, turned to stare at the former vampire in surprise.  "Yeah, we were sparring.  Who gives a rat's arse?  These girls are the Slayers, damn it!  They need to stay sharp.  And I wasn't sent back to this hell of a life to just sit around and be all namby-pamby scholar like Watcher-boy."

Giles gave Spike a hard look.  "Spike, don't--"

"He's right, Giles," Dawn interrupted in a low voice.  "We are all who we are."

Xander nodded his agreement.  "Makes a good point when she's not whining."

_~Spike, the Elves hold our lives in their hands_,_~_ Willow's voice echoed inside his mind.  He turned to look at the witch and was surprised to see her eyes on him.  He remembered her mind-speak very well.  And he remembered how much he didn't like it.  _~Giles is right.  We can't jeopardize that.~_

_~I will not be a prisoner any longer_,_~_ Spike thought back to her.  _ ~ I'd rather die.~_

_~You idiotic, rash ex-demon, that's what you'll be doing!~_ Giles thought harshly, reminiscent of Ripper.

_~Think it through, Spike_,_~_ Xander thought to him calmly._  ~ It wouldn't just be your life.  It would be all of us.  ME, Wills, Faith, Giles, Dawn, _and _Buffy.  We would all die.~_

"Better than a prisoner to arrogant creatures that treat is like soddin' slaves and children!" Spike shouted.

Everyone froze, including Spike.  It was obvious he hadn't meant to say that allowed.  But now it was too late.

Dawn paled and watched the Elves watch them.  "Oh, god."

"Is that truly how you feel?" Arwen asked, her voice full of some unnamed emotion.

"No, we are very grateful for everything that you've done for us," Buffy replied quickly.

Xander nodded a shot Spike a tense look.  "Aren't we, Spike?"

"No," Galadriel said, her eyes full of understanding and a bit of sadness.  "I believe you are appreciative, but do you feel like prisoners?"

Willow wrung her hands nervously.  "It's…we…we love it here, but…"

"You want to be able to do what is in your nature to do," Galdriel finished.

Celeborn caught his wife's gaze.  The Elven couple looked at each other for a moment, as if carrying on a conversation without words.  Then Celeborn turned tot eh humans.  "You have proven yourselves many times over.  You have become friends to many, family to others.  You have accepted our offer to live in Lórien while you learned how to survive.  I now extend that offer."

"We now offer you family," Galdriel continued with a soft smile.  "A home for your hearts.  A permanent home, if you would like.  We would like you to be as our family."

Everyone stood in a tense silence while the Scoobies absorbed the offer.  Finaly, after several agaonizing moments of uncertainty, Dawn blinked.  "Wow."

"We…we're honored," Buffy breathed in awe.

Celeborn smiled broadly, one of the very few times he had ever done so in front of the Scoobies.   "Let it be made known that here now stand seven true Elf-kin.  They are of our House and carry with them our protection and blessing."

"Let us celebrate this joyous occasion," Arwen proclaimed and all the Elves turned and started back for Caras Galadhon.

Haldir paused, then turned to the group, eyes sparkling.  "I apologize for my previous behavior.  You are my kin.  You saved my life.  I will never be able to repay you.  I am your Elf whenever you have need for me.  Mellyn'nín."

(My friends.)

Then he started after the group of Elves, leaving a very confused and dumbfounded group of humans behind him.  After a few moments, Faith waved her hand like a schoolchild.  "What just happened?"

"Um…Spike had a snippy moment?" Dawn suggested.

"We're kindred of the Elves now," Giles breathed, stille awed by the moment.  "We're elvellyn."

"Elf-friends," Xander translated for the group.

"Galadriel and Celeborn made us their children," Willow said unsure.

Giles nodded.  "They offered to foster us."

"We accepted," Spike continued.

"Well, it seemed rude to say no," Buffy defended with a shrug.  "All the Elves were having holy moments."

"It is a very significant and honorable thing to be fostered by the Elves," Giles explained.  "t makes us Elven everyway but physically.  We are citizens of their world now.  Worthy of their life."

"Wow," Faith muttered as she absorbed this.  "Giles isn't the dad anymore.  He's a brother."

Buffy looked up at Giles, who returned her look uncomfortably.

"Roguish uncle?" Buffy suggested.

"Quite," Giles replied with a firm nod.

"So," Dawn drawled as she slowly started towards Caras Galadhon.  "We're, like, family."

"We were before and you know it," Xander replied as he followed after her.

"Well, yeah, but now it's official," Willow said happily as she hurried after the pair.  "We're brothers and sisters and…um…roguish uncles."

"And the Lord and Lady of Lórien are our parents?" Giles continued as he fell into step behind the witch.

"And Haldir is our…what?" Faith asked as she follwed after the Watcher.  "Servant?  Or…soldier guy?"

Spike watched the group make their way through the woods.  Wow.  Since he met the group, he had gained a soul, died, became human, and was thrown into an alternate universe.

Buffy stepped up next to him and sighed.  "This has been a very long and confusing…ten minutes."

"I guess this means things are going to change," Spike said as he and the layer started to follow their family.

"Well, there's already been a big change," Buffy pointed out.  "Haldir kinda…respects us or something."

Spike smirked.  "Typical.  We have to save someone's life to earn their respect."

"I must have saved Cordelia Chase's life a hundred times," Buffy replied with a snort.  "She respected me as much as tin can."

Spike nodded.  "Talk about family."

"That family's gone," Buffy sighed.  "Remembered but…dead to us."

"That's all right," Spike replied, his smirk turning into a real smile.  "We have family here, now."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N:  If you couldn't tell, I really hated writing this chapter.  It's not that good and the dialogue is weird, but I had to have a reason for the Elves and Scoobies to suddenly become chummy.  So sorry it took this long.  Chapter Eleven will be out next week.  That one's Faith's POV.

Oh, and I have a yahoo!group now.  You should totally join cause it makes hounding me for the next chapter a lot easier.  Join at groups.yahoo.com/group/scooby_wannabe. Thanks for your reviews!  Please continue reviewing!


	11. Getting Comfy

A/N:  I really liked writing this one.  Mostly because I like Faith's character.  She runs really close with Willow as my favorite female character (actually my favorite character period).  Well, these are her thoughts.  Oh…YAY ARAGORN!  Oh, I also want to weigh in here and say that I am completely canon in having Aragorn visit here.  Check your Appendixes cause he comes, he puts on the pretty clothes and he stays in Lórien for "a season".  I have an idea about how long a season is (I assume that a season is basically like spring or summer or something), but, well, I'm changing it.  He stays more or less a year.  If that bothers you, then don't read this and the next two chapters.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

--Faith's POV--

I hate this place.

Really.

I really hate this place.  We've been here a year and already it feels like a century.  The lessons are crap.  I can't remember jackshit about who was King of Gondor when this happened during this year in that age or how I'm supposed to respond if a Dwarf asks me about hammers.  I couldn't hold a conversation in Sindarin to save my life.  I'm not supposed to fight or do anything else unladylike unless we're out hunting or patrolling for Orcs.  And some goddamn she-Elf lost my bra!

Not that things aren't getting better.  They really sucked when we first got here, confined to our rooms with nothing to do and not trusted by anyone.  Now, we're Celeborn and Galadriel's wards, just part of the crowd, free to come and go as we please.  The city is gorgeous, I'll give you that.  But what city inhabited by ethereal glowing Elf people wouldn't be?

Something that has really grated on those of us who lack dicks has been the lack of women's lib around this place.  Giles, Xander, and Spike keep getting referred to as our guardians, much to Xander and Spike's amusement.  It's really shitty having to rely on Xander's opinion (of all people) to get my way sometimes.

The one nice thing to happen is that Haldir finally removed the stake from his ass and started to trust us after Buff and I saved that ass from painful death by Orc.  Actually, I think he sees us as friends.  He gets way too protective, especially of us "weak little women".  Buffy still hates him, though.  They get into these great big arguments over the place of females and what is appropriate.  Though, sometimes I wonder if it isn't a bit of UST going on between them.  He even let me shoot his longbow once.  Not that he ever let me again after I split the arrow from his previous shot in half, but there you go.

The other Elves are pretty decent, too.  Galadriel's nice.  She's like Mother Earth incarnate.  She's becoming especially attached to Willow, who gets special extra lessons in magic from the Elven witch.  But of course, she's getting attached to all of us.  I think she called me "selde'nín" the other day, which I'm pretty sure means "daughter mine".  Then again, it could mean "pass the salt" without me being none the wiser.

I guess Celeborn's all right.  It was kinda cool of him to let us stay here and to feed and clothe us and shit without even knowing who we really were or if we could honestly be trusted and then to make us part of his family.  I wouldn't have done it.  I wouldn't have had the patience to become the pseudo-ruler of a great big city of Elves either, though.  He and Giles have become good friends, Giles being the knowledge sponge we all know him to be.  He's our keeper and a good man…uh, Elf.

Arwen's the best one here.  Even though she still has that men-are-better-than-women attitude, she actually won't take shit a lot of times.  It's nice, having someone outside of the Sunnydale crew as a friend.  Someone who doesn't still give me wary looks and distrustful glances.  She accepts me for me.  I didn't think I deserved that anymore.  I even told her about my past, and she just shrugged!  I guess she's seen a lot of evil and all in her many years, but…I'd never been so easily trusted by someone who knew of my past.  Well, except for Angel, but he was still back on plain old Earth.

"Rossell, are you well?  Rossell?"

Oh, yeah, I forgot.  Some of us, well, a lot of us are getting new names.  Elvish names.  Our Earth names aren't good enough for us, oh no.  We have to have names that mean something.

Dawn got hers first.  Haldir named her, though he got the idea from Galadriel.  He heard the she-Elf call the girl "sweet girl of the Morrowdim" again.  He didn't say anything then, only later when we were all out on a stroll with him.  Dawn was running back and forth after a butterfly, Haldir laughing at her antics.

"You flit around like a butterfly yourself, Minuial," he had called to her as she watched the butterfly fly away.

Dawn had frowned.  "Min-what?"

"Minuial," Willow had supplied, cocking her head in thought.  "It means 'Morrowdim'.  Dawn."

So Meluiell Minuial, Sweet-Daughter Dawn, was born.  Though we still referred to her as Dawn, the Elves refused to call her anything else, much to her annoyance.

Buffy was next.  Galadriel named her.  She was explaining exactly what a Slayer was to the woman over dinner when she found a daisy in her soup.  She had freaked out, not used to daisy soup.  From then on she had been known to the Elves as Eirien Dagnirulun, Daisy Monster-Slayer.

Then Giles went.  He got his from Celeborn.  There's no cute little story or explanation behind his name, just one day he went to talk with Celeborn and the Lord had called him Drúadan Belegadar.  It means Wise-man Mighty-Father.

The only other one of us to be named at this point is me.  Named by Arwen after I told her of my past.  Rossell Bronwe.  Daughter-of-the-Rain Faith.  Named so because my spirit, according to Arwen, was like the fresh droplets of life that fell to the earth gently in the midst of the storm.

I smiled up at Arwen, then started walking again down the path.  "Díheno nin.  Nín nauth mistant an nín bardôr."

(Forgive me.  My thoughts stray to my homeland.)

Arwen nodded understandingly, falling into step next to Faith as they strolled through the woodland that was the city Caras Galadhon.  "Im henio.  Lín Sindarin na galol."

(I understand.  Your Sindarin is improving.)

"Hannad," I replied, trying my best to sound sincerely happy.

(Thank you.)

Unfortunately, those damned Elvish ears picked up even the slightest wavering of the voice.  She looked up with those sharp, calculating Elvish eyes and frowned.  "Are you not happy here, Rossell?"

I hesitated for a moment, then shrugged reluctantly.  "I don't know.  It's not that this place isn't great or that you and your grandparents haven't been great, but…I can't take just sitting here.  I'm the Slayer, not some girl who just sits at home and knits."

Arwen's frown deepened.  "You knit?"

I shook my head forcefully.  "No!  It's…that's not the point!  I'm just going crazy when there is work to be done.  I know these lands aren't completely safe and all.  I can help."

Arwen gave me a soft smile, one that would have been patronizing on anyone else.  "Do not worry so, Rossell.  The chance for you to take your place in this world will come.  But first you must be prepared for it.  That means study, of the lands, the ways, the speech."

I sighed.  She's right.  It's so annoying that she's always right.  "I know.  I'm trying to be patient."

At this, Arwen flat out laughed.  If it had been anyone else, I probably would have pummeled them.  But I know the she-Elf well enough to know that she was not making fun of me.  "Patience is not one of your virtues."

Damn, her laugh is infectious.  I almost cracked a smile myself, but the moment was interrupted by some Elf I had never seen before running up to us, as out of breath as Elves got.  He quickly nodded in a small show of acknowledging my existence, before turning to Arwen and bowing.  "Mae govannen, Híril Rossell, Híril Arwen.  Híril'nín, tolo avorn!  Hir Aragorn garn tollen!"

(My Lady, come fast!  Lord Aragorn has come!)

Like I said, my Sindarin is as bad as the sounds cats make when they're in heat, but I sort of followed what the Elf said.  Aragorn.  Hm.  I knew that I had heard that name somewhere before.  I frowned at Arwen, deep in thought.  "Who?"

"Lord Aragorn has returned to Lórien!" Arwen squealed.  And I mean squealed.  Like fourteen-year-old-who-gets-to-meet-a-Backstreet-Boy squeal.  In the year I had known the she-Elf, she had never come close to acting like she was acting like now.  In fact, she was all serious most of the time, rarely smiling and hardly ever laughing.  But now she was bouncing up and down like a baby seal on crack.

Arwen smiled at me, this big beautiful smile that I had never seen on her before, and grabbed at my arm.  She gave it an encouraging squeeze, then was gone, gliding through the trees towards the entrance to the city as quickly as her dainty Elven feet would carry her.  The Elf who had brought the news followed closely behind, going on and on so quickly I couldn't even begin to follow him.

So I stood there, pathetic and ditched, frozen in place, my arms raised in a shrug as I watched the two disappear.  Finally I desperately and confusedly called out, "Who is Lord Aragorn?!"

No one answered.

I growled in frustration, hating the fact that, once again, I had no clue what was going on.  After a moment of pouting worthy of Dawn in her more sullen moments, I turned and ran through the city, to our flet, to mine and the other girls' room, and burst in through the archway.

Buffy, Xander, Willow, and Dawn all looked up at me like I was crazy.  Oh, well.  That wasn't anything new.

"Who is Lord Aragorn?"

Buffy, who was sitting on her bed testing the resistance of the string of the bow Haldir had given her after her first kill last Sunday, relaxed the weapon, frowning.  "Aragorn?"

"Yeah," I choked through my very loud pants for breath.  I needed to get out more.  "Heard of him?"

Xander, who was lounging on Willow's bed engrossed in a book that was written in what looked like the Tengwar and Quenya, shrugged absentmindedly, not even looking up.  "He's gonna be one of the Fellowship, I think."

"Wrong!" Buffy shouted in a rare moment of genius.  Very rare, in my opinion.  "He's the heir of that Ice guy."

"Isildur," Willow corrected automatically as she looked over the bit of parchment Dawn was writing on as she layed out on the floor.

Heir of Isildur?  Oh, right.  The stupid prick that didn't have the balls or brains to burn up the Ring.  The idiot who was the last King of Gondor.  So this Aragorn guy is heir to the throne and the wicked mess of Isildur.  Poor guy.  "The heir of Isildur?  Cool.  Wanna go meet?"

"He's here?" Dawn asked in surprise, looking up from whatever it was she was working on.

"Yeah," I replied, looking over my shoulder as if I could see anything.  Since I was in a room about two hundred feet up, I couldn't.  Not to mention that the entrance to Caras Galadhon was a good fifty yards away anyways.  "Just arrived, I guess."

"Later," Willow said immediately, giving Dawn a firm look as she continued to read over the girl's work.  "We've just about got Dawn understanding the future conjugation of regular verbs in Quenya."

"What fun," I muttered sarcastically.  They gave up on me and Quenya a long time ago.  Actually, Willow was happy when she got me understanding more intermediate level Sindarin, little though it might be.  Well, let them be the boring jerkoffs.  I have got to meet this guy.  "Well, I gotta meet the man that makes Arwen giddy."

"He makes Arwen giddy?" Buffy repeated in disbelief.  She gave me a long hard look, then dropped her bow.  "I'm in."

I gave my sister-Slayer a quick nod, then turned and darted out of the room.  I shuffled down the stairs as quickly as I dared in this damn dress, immediately taking the path to the city entrance as soon as I was on the ground.  Buffy, more skilled at maneuvering in her stupid dress, caught up with me easily and we were soon joining the rear of the small welcoming party that had gathered at the city gates.

All the Elves I knew.  Haldir was there near the front, a small smile on his features.  Celeborn was talking quickly with one of his servants, probably seeing to making one of the guest rooms available for this visitor.  Galadriel wasn't there, but it didn't much matter to me.  I wanted to see this Aragorn.  Finally I spotted Arwen, eyes sparkling as she spoke animatedly with a man.

Buffy gave a low whistle, softly enough so only I could hear her.  And did I ever agree.

The man Arwen was speaking to looked more like a god.  Full grown and wonderfully muscular, with dark hair that hung around his face.  His face was covered in a stubbly beard and…yum…he looked strong and agile and…not the point.  He was dressed in brilliant robes of silver and white that seemed to cling in all the right places, though they hid his ass a little more than I cared them to.  He also had on a cloak of Elven-grey, something that made him look very regal and hot.  On his brow was a bright gem, something that made him look like the King I knew he was destined to be.

Beside me, Buffy made a small choking sound, then grabbed my arm, pulling me close to whisper, "Is that him?"

"Think so," I murmured a little bit too wanting.

"Damn," Buffy whispered, passing away from logical thought.

I nodded slowly.  "Agreed."

For some reason, the Powers decided that my private worship of the man in front of me should be interrupted, for suddenly Arwen looked up and spotted Buffy and me.  Her smile broadened, if that was even possible, and she motioned for us to join her.

I was trying to remember how to move my legs when suddenly I blinked and found myself in a small circle with Buffy, Arwen, and the gorgeous man.

Arwen motioned to us as if presenting us to be judged.  I didn't like the feeling.  "My Lord, might I introduce Rossell Bronwe and Eirien Dagnirulun of the far off realms."

Aragorn nodded politely and gave the two of us a small smile.  "Elen síla lumenn' omentielvo!"

Wonderful.  The hottie speaks Quenya.  If my Sindarin is bad, my Quenya is non-existant.  That will be interesting.  "Mae govannen, hir'nín."

Arwen gave me a small smile of understanding and blessedly stuck to English, or Common Speech as she called it.  "Ladies, this is Aragorn, son of Arathorn, also called Strider, of the Rangers."

"Which land do you hail from, Ladies?" Aragorn asked curiously, noticing our lack of being Elves.

"One you will not have heard of, called California," I replied since Buffy still looked like she was incapable of making vowel sounds, let alone full sentences.  "And please, call me Faith.  And this is Buffy.  We can't convince these Elves hear to call us by our given names."

"Estel!"

Aragorn winced as Galadriel appeared, calling out the word for hope.  It took me a moment to figure out Estel was his Elven name, but I did.  Aragorn looked like he wanted to roll his eyes, so he closed them, taking a deep breath.  "I know the feeling."

Suddenly he opened his eyes and gave us a small and courteous bow.  "Ladies, if you would pardon my rudeness, but I must excuse myself.  I have traveled far and am weary.  We will talk later."

Buffy, finally recovered, nodded deeply back to him.  "Of course."

"Sleep well," he said as a farewell before turning to Arwen.  He reached for her hand to take and kiss.  As bare hand met bare hand, both jolted, as if hit with electricity.

They stared at each other for the longest time.  Full minutes.  After a long while, Aragorn released his hold on Arwen's hand, looking very flustered.  "Lady Arwen."

"My lord," she mumbled as Aragorn turned and swept away toward Galadriel.

I watched the exchange, fighting the urge to frown.  Typical.  The first decent mortal guy I laid eyes on is some exiled King in love with the most beautiful Elf-woman-thing that has walked Middle-Earth since that other Elf-lady-queen-poem-woman.

I hate this place.

"The Rangers of the South are known to take female warriors into their circle," Arwen said softly without even looking back at Buffy and I.  "I shall speak to Aragorn of it."

I hate this place.

But maybe things are looking up.

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A/N:  I apologize once again for the delays in updates.  I really enjoy writing this story and your reviews helped push me through a dry spell.  Yes that was a hint to keep reviewing!  :)  Next chapter should be up next week, until then please review!


	12. Making Connections

A/N:  Chapter 12!!!  Yay!!! I'm on track (sorta).

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Faith scowled at the longbow Haldir had made for her.  But no matter how she glared at it, it wouldn't string itself.  Which really grated on her since she couldn't go hunting if she couldn't get her bow strung.

"Don't say it," Faith growled to the man sitting next to her.

Spike held up his hands in a motion of surrender, then went back to watching the bustle of activity going on beneath them.  "Not a word, Slayer."

Faith and Spike were both perched on the edge of one of the tree platforms, one of the many that were unlike the rooms by having no walls.  The one they were sitting on was more like a walkway, suspended between Celeborn and Galadriel's home and another flet.  Several feet below them, preparations were being made for a feast in Lord Aragorn's honor.

Faith pulled on the string in her hands again and was rewarded by it slipping through her fingers, allowing the edge of the bow to smack her in the chin.

Spike was shaking with the effort to not laugh as he stared down at the many Elves running around fixing up the glen for the feast.

Faith glared at the ex-vampire and opened her mouth to tell him where he could put his own perfectly strung bow when she heard a voice clear from behind her.  "Ah.  Rossell Bronwe, correct?  Are you in need of assistance?"

Both Faith and Spike half-turned to find Lord Aragorn, dressed the same as Faith had seen him earlier, but looking much more refreshed and well rested.  Faith shook her head.  "It's Faith."

Aragorn bowed his head in apology.  "I beg your pardon, I forgot."

Faith shrugged.  "No big.  This is Spike.  Spike this is Lord Aragorn, the guy Buffy and I were talking about."

Aragorn bowed to Spike in greeting.  "Master Spike, it is a pleasure to know you."

Spike also bowed, but couldn't quite cover a snort.  "You don't know me yet, mate."

"To know of you, then," Aragorn amended with a sly grin.

"Join us," Spike said, motioning for the Ranger to sit down.  Aragorn nodded again and sat down next to Faith, swinging his legs over the side of the platform like Spike had done, opting not to sit like Faith, who was sitting cross-legged while fiddling with her bow.  Spike grabbed the small platter of bread, cheese, and grapes sitting next to him and held it out to the Man.  "Hungry?  We got plenty to go around and it'll take that lot bloody forever to get that feast ready."

Aragorn accepted the platter, immediately downing a slice of bread.  "Thank you."

Spike smirked as he watched the Man dig into the grapes.  "No prob."

Aragorn frowned slightly at Spike, examining the ex-vampire closely.   "Your speech is strange."

"We get that a lot," Spike grumbled in reply, rolling his shoulders.  "Next you'll comment on my bloody accent."

"Arwen tells me you are from the North?" Aragorn prompted, pouring himself a goblet of wine.

Faith snorted at the cover story Celeborn had come up with for the humans.  "Yeah.  Straight north."

Aragorn frowned, taking a sip of his wine.  "You are not?"

"In a way," Faith replied, pointing up.  "Portal opened pretty north of here."

"Portal?" Aragorn repeated, completely confused.

"We were brought here by a kind of magic," Spike explained, giving Faith a look for confusing the poor Man.  "We're not of this world, but there's no way back to ours, so we gotta learn to make do."

Aragorn was silent as he contemplated this.  A moment later, he looked up at the two humans.  "You do not tell many of this."

"No one besides the Lórien Elves know," Faith said nonchalantly, but with effort as she started to pull on the string once more.  "And not even all of them."

"Why would you trust me?" Aragorn asked, perplexed.

Faith shrugged.  "You seem like a trustworthy guy."

He was quiet for a moment as if absorbing all of this, then he shook it off and turned back to the pair.  "Arwen bade me speak with you.  She tells me that you are a warrior in your homeland."

"Slayer," Faith said in agreement.

"You and Buffy both, correct?" Aragorn more said then asked.

"We all fought," Faith replied with a nod.  "But Buffy and I are meant to fight."

"Me, too," Spike added.  "I didn't come back with enhanced strength and reflexes for nothing."

Faith snorted in amusement.  "Yeah.  Giles once called you a male Slayer."

"Oi!" Spike cried out indignantly.  "I'm not no male Slayer!"

"That's a double negative, Spike," Willow pointed out as she came up behind them and sat down next to the former vampire.  "You just said that you _are_ a male Slayer."

"Willow," Spike nodded in greeting.  "Where's the others?"

Willow looked to the sky in thought, ticking off a finger.  "Buffy's fighting with Haldir again."

Faith nearly lost her grip on her bow.  "_Again_?"

"Mm," Willow nodded, ticking off her other fingers.  "Xander disappeared with Giles.  I think they're hunting.  And Dawn's off with Arwen."

"Will, this is Aragorn," Faith introduced, suddenly remembering the Man beside her.  "Aragorn, this is Willow Rosenberg."

"Lady Willow," Aragorn said, bowing his head in greeting.

"Lord Aragorn, wonderful to meet you," Willow replied with a bright smile.  Then she turned her attention back to Spike.  "What's all this about being a male Slayer?"

Spike shrugged.  "Just telling milord that we can fight."

Willow looked back at Aragorn, cheeks tingeing pink.  "Oh.  Yes.  We all can.  Faith, Buffy, and Spike especially.  Though Xander's gotten pretty good, too, and is very good at improvising.  And Dawn's really just starting to learn, but she's already great, a good learner.  Then Giles, he can be all Ripper and all.  And I'm decent, though I like to make with the magic more than anything because I'm a witch and that's what witch's do, though I'm a good witch and will never do the bad again cause that's a no and Galadriel has been teaching me more and more light magic and a bunch of Elvish magic to boot and we've both been teaching Dawny, who would think that Dawny could do magic, though I guess it's predictable with her being all green glowy energy and she's starting to get good because--"

"Red!" Spike interrupted, rolling his eyes at the witch.

"Oh, I was babbling again wasn't I?" Willow asked, blushing crimson.  "Sometimes I babble, I do it a lot, ever since I was a kid, really, because of the whole shy thing and I guess I'm babbling now because I'm meeting a strange man, not that you're weird or anything, I meant strange like--"

"Willow!" Faith cut in quickly, once again losing her grip on her bowstring.  

Willow flushed an even brighter red.  "Sorry."

Aragorn raised an eyebrow, eyes wide with amusement.  "You are a very interesting woman, Lady Willow."

"Oh, please, just call me Willow," the redhead mumbled, keeping sure to snap her mouth shut after the sentence was completed.

Aragorn nodded his understanding.  "Just Aragorn, then."

"Not Estel?" Willow asked, eyes suddenly teasing.

Aragorn looked up in surprise.  "Pardon?"

"That's what Arwen called you," the redhead explained.

"Estel is the name that my foster-father, Lord Elrond, gave me," Aragorn told the trio.  "I prefer Aragorn."

Faith snorted, once again gripping the string as tightly as she could.  "His name is Estel as much as my name is Rossell."

"So, you're a Ranger, huh?" Willow prompted, aiming for small talk.

Aragorn nodded.  "Yes, for these twenty-nine years, now."

"Long time," Willow commented.  "I've only been with Buffy for about seven and Spike and Faith--"

"Damn it!" Faith shouted as the string slipped again and the bow bucked back to smack her in the face, narrowly missing her eye.

Spike sighed.  "Faith, you're going to break it if you keep on like that."

"Oh, shut up, Soul Boy," Faith growled as she grabbed for the string again.

"That's Angel," Spike replied easily.  "I'm Human Boy."

Aragorn watched the small interaction with interest.  "You are a very strange group."

"Thanks," Willow replied instantly, then paused.  "I think."

"Look!" Aragorn said, pointing down below.  "They're ready for the feast!"

"Bout bloody time," Spike muttered jumping to his feet.  He turned to Willow and offered her his hand.  "C'mon, Red."

Aragorn watched the two skip off, then pushed himself up, holding out a hand to the Slayer who was still hard at work trying to string her bow.  "Lady Faith."

Faith sighed, handing him the bow so she could climb to her feet.  She looked away for a moment to push herself up, but once she looked back, she found herself staring at her bow, freshly strung.  Faith's mouth dropped open as she turned her gaze to Aragorn, who was smiling smugly.  Faith opened her mouth to protest, then shrugged, accepting his offered arm.  "You bastard."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The return of Aragorn to Lórien was met with great interest on Giles' part.  He spent days horded up with the Ranger, pumping him for information on anything and everything that he knew and was willing to share.

Aragorn, for his part, was intrigued by the humans.  He quickly became friends with Faith and Spike, enjoying their wit and knowledge.  He also became fast friends with Buffy, mainly due to her strength and battle experience.  Xander, he found very humorous.  And Willow, well, the witch had bad problems with her babbling while around the Lord, much to his amusement.  And to Dawn, he found her to be as interesting as her companions, though he spoke with her little.

Dawn, however, didn't pay much attention to the heir of Isildur.  Instead, she found herself watching Arwen.  She had had little contact with the she-Elf, who spent most of her time with Faith and, now that he was in Lórien, Lord Aragorn.  The pair had shared a few walks together when no one else was available, but that was it.  But Dawn had never seen the Evenstar so happy, so content.

So when she and Arwen once again found themselves deserted when Aragorn, Buffy, Faith, Spike, and Xander went hunting and Willow and Giles joined Galadriel for another one of their many discussions, Dawn couldn't help but voice her observations to the she-Elf.

"You seem happier these days."

Arwen looked up from the book she had been reading, surprised by Dawn's statement.  She saw the look in the girl's eyes and sat down her book, giving Dawn a sincere look.  "Im non.  And gelir."

(I am.  Very happy.)

Dawn nodded, taking a few steps towards the table Arwen was sitting at.  "Câr sen garo ceri nad ah Hir Aragorn?"

(Does this have anything to do with Lord Aragorn?)

"You are very direct, Meluiell," Arwen commented, giving Dawn a curious glance.

Dawn knew why this was surprising to the she-Elf.  She had never really been her true self while around Arwen and their talks had never been serious before, just things like how Dawn was adjusting and if she was having trouble learning anything specific.  Dawn knew that Arwen could quite possibly think her a simpleton.

She gave the she-Elf a sly grin as she took the seat next to her.  "I don't like to beat around the bush."

Arwen was silent for a moment, as if contemplating what she should share with the human girl.  Finally reaching a conclusion she sighed, almost wistfully.  "Im non Thelo an ho, Meluiell.  Ho na nín Min."

(I am Meant for him.  He is my One.)

Dawn's mouth dropped open.  She knew what it was Arwen was saying.  Elves believed in soul mates, in having a One.  One soul had another that it was Meant for.  And though it was very rare, some Elves were able to find their "One" and bind with them, and that they would know if a person was their "One" or not.  Dawn knew that Celeborn and Galadriel were Meant, as were Elrond and Celebrian, Arwen's parents.  But for an Elf and a mortal to be Meant was a serious matter, and had not occurred for thousands of years.

"Ho na fíreb," Dawn pointed out stupidly.  "Lle nach edhellen."

(He is mortal.  You are of the Elves.)

Arwen looked down at her hands, almost in grief.  "Iston."

(I know.)

Dawn sighed.  She knew that look.  She had seen it on Buffy every night during her sister's junior year in high school.  She had seen it many times afterwards, when her thoughts strayed to a certain vampire two hours south of Sunnydale.  "Buffy gâr i meleth o alfirin."

(Buffy once had the love of an immortal.)

Arwen looked up sharply.  Dawn knew this was news to her.  But Arwen could not hide her curiosity.  "Man telli o ten?"

(What happened?)

Dawn sighed and closed her eyes.  "He degi ho."

(She killed him.)

Arwen was quiet for a long time.  Dawn would have given the world to have known what she was thinking.  Finally, the she-Elf gave a stiff nod.  "Pedach ho nenant alfirin."

(You said he was immortal.)

"Oh, he came back," Dawn said instantly, trying desperately to think of words to express her sister's story.  "They started…courting again.  But things became too much.  There was too much working against them.  He left her.  But it was not in his power to give her what you can give to Aragorn.  He could not turn away from his immortality.  He could not give her a life of happiness.  He gave her the little he could, then left her to find happiness with someone else.  She never has."

Arwen sighed, bowing her head.  "Naer trenarn."

(A sad tale.)

Dawn nodded solemnly.  "I asked her once…after it was over…if it had been worth it.  If she would have done things differently.  She told me--"

"One minute in his arms was worth the pain."

Both females jumped as Buffy entered the room, still dressed in the breeches and tunic of her hunting clothes.  She smiled at Arwen warmly as she sat down next to the she-Elf.  "One stolen moment with him was worth paying for with my life."

"But you are the mortal," Arwen said, uncertain.

Buffy sighed.  "Then Dawn didn't tell the story right.  Yes, I am the mortal and he was the immortal.  But if we had stayed together, I would have died very soon.  Sooner than I should have.  He left me to save my life.  So, if we're doing comparisons, I would be you.  He would be Aragorn."

Arwen nodded her understanding.  "But you chose him and death."

"If I had been allowed to make the choice, then yes," Buffy answered wistfully, eyes glazing over as she thought on her lost Angel.  "I would have chosen him and death in an instant."

Arwen sat a moment before quietly saying, "Tírad Aragorn ad…na aglareb."

(Seeing Aragorn again…it is wonderful.)

Dawn nodded uncertainly.  "That's good, I guess."

"Things will still be wild for a long time," Buffy told the she-Elf encouragingly.  "You don't have to make any choices for several years."

Arwen shook her head as she rose to her feet and walked to the window, gazing out of it.  She was again silent for several moments as she gazed solemnly out the window.  "I've made my choice.  The moment I first saw him here, my choice was made.  My doom appointed."

Dawn nodded, rising to her feet and joining Arwen at the window.  Outside on the ground level, Xander, Aragorn, Spike, and Haldir were talking animatedly while Faith dragged the carcass of a deer over to the game the others had caught.  Dawn put a hand on the she-Elf's shoulder, squeezing gently.  "If it is what makes you happy, then I am happy for you."

Arwen turned to Dawn, tears in her eyes.  Buffy quickly joined the pair as Arwen smiled widely through her tears.  "Thank you, my friends.  My sisters."

Dawn, knowing that Elves didn't share emotion with many but those they held closest to them, pulled Arwen in for a hug.  After holding her for a moment, she broke away, tears in her own eyes.

"So, Buffy," Arwen said, changing the subject.  "How did things go with Haldir?"

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A/N:  My Sindarin sucks, so all you Tolkien linguists out there, please turn a blind eye.  Poor Arwen, I feel so bad for her :(.  Oh, the soulmate thing.  The soulmate thing (being "Meant" and having a "One") is totally me.  There's no soulmates thing in the Tolkien-verse (at least, not that I've read, though it's been a few years…correct me if I'm wrong on that please!).  But it works better for me if I have soulmates.  So the basic drift is yes, it exists, it's extremely rare, and people _can_ marry outside of their soulmates.  Also (quick note) just because two people are soulmates doesn't necessarily mean they'll end up together.  Soulmates is a very intense concept and not everyone can handle it.  Also, sometimes people are in love outside the concept or they don't like their soulmate or circumstances don't allow for the soulmates to be together.  Now that I've had that slightly ominous rant, I'll be quiet.

Oh, please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please REVIEW!!!


	13. Uncontrollable Destinies

A/N:  Spike is my favorite male character.  I love the fact that he's on Angel.  It's great!  Well, here's his POV.

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--Spike's POV--

Aragorn son of Arathorn.  A Man with a destiny he can't seem to escape.  I can understand that a bit.  I think Faith understands it more, though.  Buffy would too if she would stop fighting with Haldir long enough to figure out she shares a connection to old king boy.  But she's much too happy dancing this little dance with Haldir.  So that leaves Isildur's heir to us.

We never talk about his destiny.  He knows we know, that I'm sure of.  But it's a subject best not broached with the somber king in exile.  But he never asks Faith or any of the rest of us about our bloody destinies.  He either doesn't know or is paying us the same courtesy.  I figure he doesn't know.

One afternoon found us lounging next to the Silverlode River.  We were bored and, according to the angry Arwen, behind in our "studies".  Like I need to know the lineage of the nobility of Rohan to survive in Middle-Earth.  I keep telling the she-Elf that I just want a wealthy farmboy's education: reading, writing, and a little bit of history.  After a hundred and some odd years of existence, I know how to adjust to change.  But the little Elf-bit doesn't want to hear that.  She definitely doesn't care for any of us to shove off her subjects to learn tracking and fighting with Haldir and Aragorn.  So to appease the wench for awhile, we're trying to advance a bit in the areas we're lacking in.  Xander's got problems learning the history of the first age, the moron.  Slayer Two still barely knows the Elven alphabet.  And me, well, I've taken a liking to the Elven lore and song-craft.  Surprised, eh?  Thought I'd be a stupid bint that couldn't learn the language or the history, didn't you?  I know no one would think I'd actually be keen to learn, especially cultural mythology.  Remember, bit, I was a poet.

So that's why we were there, by the Silverlode, trying to read up on what we can before the warm afternoon falls to night.  But the Slayer, well, she just wasn't interested in trying to translate the book she had.  She sighed and pushed back against the tree she was leaning on.  She was bored.  Great.  There goes the peaceful afternoon.

Faith turned to Aragorn, eyeing him hungrily.  Not _that_ kind of hungry, you twisted pervert.  Slayer Two might not be that high and mighty when it comes to moral issues surrounding the men she's got an itch for, but she knows that our resident Heir-in-Exile is taken by Arwen.  And Faith values Arwen's friendship way too much to do anything to jeopardize it.

No.  The way Faith was looking at Aragorn wasn't sexual.  It's something that began as curiosity.  Curiosity that went unresolved for far too long.  Oh, bugger.  I knew what she was going to ask.  Well, I guess we couldn't ignore it forever.

"Being who you are bothers you, doesn't it?"

I knew it.  Bloody twit didn't know when to keep her mouth shut.  If she had to ask, she should have done it alone, not with Chubs and me hanging about as an audience.  Not that I was bothered by Aragorn's sudden jump.  He nearly dropped his book in surprise and all.  He stared at the Slayer in shock.  "Beg pardon?"

"Being the heir of Isildur," Faith clarified.

I looked up from my book, eyebrow raised.  Just because I didn't want the girl to ask doesn't mean I didn't want to hear the answer.  At least I'm subtle about my own curiosity.  Boy-Toy Harris was staring at Faith and Aragorn with his mouth wide open.  Bet he could catch flies in that thing.

Aragorn shifted uncomfortably, glancing down at the book he had been reading.  "Yes, well, I do not care being born to a destiny that I have no control over."

Faith rolled her eyes.  "I hear that."

So do I, kiddies.  I'm human.  I took that bloody stupid medallion thing and thought it would be the end.  That I'd finally get some well-deserved god damned peace.  Funny sense of humor the Powers have.  I evaporate into a cloud of dust and the Hellmouth caves in into a giant crater.  Then I reform in the middle of the crater, completely human.  And naked, I might add.  I could have done without the Slayers, Chubs, Red, Watcher, and Nibblet standing over my naked body, inspecting me like some new mall purchase.  Then I'm told by Poofy in LA that I've shoeshined or some such bullshit and I've got some destiny as a male Slayer.  Then all of this happens.  Damn those Powers.  All I want is to sleep.

"You have a destiny?" Aragorn asked curiously.

I was right.  He didn't know.

Chubs laughed at this question.  "Does she ever."

Faith raised an eyebrow in wonder.  "Didn't Arwen tell you about B and me being the Slayers?"

Aragorn shook his head slowly.  "She mentioned that you were very strong, strength that is gifted mystically."

"Well, Cliff-Notes version, B and I were Called as the Slayers when we were still under our coming of age," Faith explained quickly.  "One day, I woke up and was stronger than my old high school's football team."

"Stronger than at about fifteen to twenty men," I clarified, knowing the Man wouldn't know what in the world a football team was.  For the love of all, Slayer, will you never get that we're not on Earth anymore?

"Well, I'm strong and I have lightening fast reflexes and things are starting to get creepy," Faith explained, picking up Xander's interest since she had never shared much about her past with the Scoobies.  Not that I have, either.  Like they need to know All my dark little secrets.  "Then I find out I have all these 'gifts' because I'm supposed to use them to single handedly fight back the evil creatures and demons of my world.  That I'll die around my coming of age, if I even make it that long.  That I was going to live about two or three more years and that those years would be spent in rigorous training and battle, cut off from the few friends and family members that I had.  Oh, and that the fate of the world rested on my shoulders."

"A hard burden to carry," Aragorn mused sympathetically.  "I am sorry."

"Yeah," I had to agree.  The girls did get the sort end of the deal.  "Even vamps feel bad for you girls sometimes.  You get everything, including the bloody theme song."

That really got Aragorn's interest.  "You have a song written about you, as well?  How does it go?"

What?

"No, there's no song," Faith replied quickly before turning to me.  She looked at me curiously.  "Is there?"

"Not that I've ever heard," I replied honestly with a shrug.  "I was just being facetious."

I can't help but stare at Aragorn.  He has a _song_ written about him?!  That's something I'd bloody well hide.  I guess he was, in a way, because the look on his face says that he knows he's given himself away.

Xander looked up at Aragorn, eye sparkling in mischief.  "But you do have a song?"

Aragorn blanched.  "Ah, no."

"Aragorn…" Faith drawled slowly.  "I think you do."

Aragorn rolled his eyes.  "Fine.  If I tell you do you swear not to laugh?"

"No," we all replied honestly.  This was too good to be true.

Aragorn sighed.  "Fine:

_All that is gold does not glitter,_

_Not all those who wander are lost;_

_The old that is strong does not wither,_

_Deep roots are not reached by the frost._

_From the ashes a fire shall waken,_

_A light from the shadows shall spring;_

_Renewed shall be blade that was broken,_

_The crownless again shall be King._"

I stared at the Man for a very long time.  He sat back, returning his attention to his book.  I kept staring for a few moments before turning to Faith.  She glanced over at me, raising an eyebrow.  We both turned to Xander.  His face was purple from his effort to remain silent.  That was it.  I couldn't contain myself any longer.

We burst out laughing.

Aragorn's face went red as he glanced up at us.  "It's not funny."

I couldn't acknowledge him.  I was laughing too hard.

"It's not!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N:  Thanks for all the wonderful reviews.  I'll answer any/all questions in the next post.  I was just too rushed in this one to get to them.  Please Continues To Review!


	14. Gang Break

A/N:  Here it is folks!  Sorry for the long wait.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A season passed in the forests of Lórien, one of laughter and smiles.  The Scoobies continued learning what Galadriel and Celeborn had to offer them while forging friendships as deep as some of their own.  But nothing can last forever, not even for the Eldar.

One night, as many nights before, they were gathered in Celeborn's study, even though it was no longer the Lord's study and more of a common room.  Xander was seated with Spike at one end of the table as the two discussed something that had occurred on one of their many hunts.  Buffy was in the floor next to Willow, playing with the witch's red hair, which had grown down past her shoulders.  Giles was, as ever, deeply engrossed in a book of Elven lore.  Arwen, Dawn and Faith were seated at the other end of the table, going over Quenya verb conjugation yet again.  Aragorn was sitting off to the side, deep in thought.

Suddenly, the Ranger stood, clearing his throat to gain the group's attention.  "I'll be leaving soon, probably around Midsummer's Day."

Everyone immediately stopped whatever it was that they were doing, looking up at the Man in surprise.  Willow found her voice first.  "Where will you be going?"

"First to Rivendell, then to the Northern Realms of Eriador and Forodwaith," he replied, turning to give Faith a pointed look.  "Much needs to be done there."

Faith caught his meaning immediately.  "Much help is needed?"

"The Rangers trust me," Aragorn said slowly.  "Trust my judgment."

Xander snorted.  "What do you mean they trust you?  They have to trust you.  You're the chieftain."****

Aragorn ignored Xander, continuing as if he had not been interrupted.  "If you would come, I would teach you the ways of the Rangers and the Dúnadan."

Spike wet his lips in anticipation, anxious and excited at this new prospect.  "It wouldn't be much.  We can already fight.  _Really_ fight."

"I do not doubt you, I've known you too long for that," Aragorn replied with a small smile.  He turned his attention back to the entire group, raising an eyebrow in expectation.  "Who would go?"

Faith rose to her feet slowly, but deliberately.  "Me."

"I'm definitely in," Buffy said as she rose from the floor.

Spike nodded his agreement, standing up as well.  "I need to get out of here.  Do what I was sent back to do."

Xander was completely floored by this sudden turn of events.  "What are you guys talking about?"

"You're offering to take us to Eriador?" Willow asked Aragorn, somewhere between disbelief and anger.  "Teach us the ways of the Rangers?"

Aragorn nodded.  "Yes.  Good fighters with pure hearts are few and hard to come by.  Fighters as such would be more valuable than Mithril."

Aragorn caught Arwen's eye, and she looked down, knowing what was coming for her new friends.

Dawn hit it first.

"Leave?" the teenager asked in horror.  "Leave Lórien?"

"We can't hide in Lórien forever," Buffy reasoned with her sister.  "If Giles is right, then we're here for a reason.  We'll never find it while living up a tree."

Faith nodded her agreement.  "Besides, those lands are wild."

"Aren't they called 'the Wild'?" Spike quipped with a snort.

Faith rolled her eyes, but ignored the ex-vampire.  "They need good warriors to defend them."

"You want to go?" Giles asked, his question directed more at Buffy.

The Slayer paused for a moment, then nodded slowly.  "I do."

"I'm not," Willow said immediately, drawing everyone's attention to her.  "Going, that is.  There's still too much to learn here.  Too much to do in Caras Galadhon."

"I feel the same," Giles said almost apologetically.  "I don't wish to leave just yet, when there is so much left to explore here."

Xander nodded.  "I wouldn't be comfortable in Eriador, Buff.  Not yet.  Not living with the Dúnedain, no offense, Aragorn."

Buffy bit her lip, disappointed, but not surprised by her friends' reactions.  She turned to her sister, eyes pleading.  "Dawn?"

Dawn shook her head slowly.  "I don't want to leave Lórien."

Xander smiled in relief.  "Four to three.  We stay."

Spike, Buffy, and Faith looked at one another.  After a moment, Spike sighed.  "You lot can stay, then."

Willow blanched.  "Split up?"

"It makes sense," Giles murmured sadly.  "Three want to go, four want to stay."

"We are adults," Faith pointed out to the group.  "We can do what we want."

Dawn watched in horror as Xander and Willow, very reluctantly, nodded their heads.  She whirled around, grabbing Buffy's arm.  "You've gotta be kidding!"

"We've been here over a year," Buffy reasoned gently.

Dawn shook her head angrily.  "We still have so much to learn!"

"We'll learn just as much, probably even more out there," Buffy pointed out.

Dawn, angry tears threatening to fall, shook her had again, completely in denial.  "We have homes here!"

"For how long?!" Buffy snapped.

Dawn froze, knowing that look in her sister's eyes.  Everyone stopped, their attention glued to the blonde Slayer.

Buffy looked at the group, strong and determined.  "We can't hide in Lórien forever pretending to be on vacation!  We're not on Earth anymore.  We're not in America.  This isn't some game.  We live in Middle-Earth!  We're a part of _this _world now!  It's time to start living in it!"

She paused for a moment, looking sad, but certain.  She sighed, tears threatening to well up, then said quietly, "I'm going."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"God, it's hot."

Xander looked over at Faith from his perch on Willow's bed and snorted.  "It's the middle of summer, of course it's hot.  Besides, it isn't nearly as hot as it used to get during the summers back home.  It's pretty cool here."

Faith growled, shifting uncomfortably on the bed she was lying on, the bed that was hers for one more night.  "Well, I was raised in Boston, land of rain and snow.  I like the cool.  I've gotten use to the cool again, I guess."

"I don't think I ever will," Willow muttered as she entered the room, arms loaded down with a mountain of clothing.  She dumped them on Buffy's bed at the blonde Slayer's feet.  "Here, these are for you."

Giles, who was lounging on the trunk next to Buffy's bed, looked at the articles curiously.  "What are they?"

"Clothes," Willow replied snippily as Buffy grabbed one of the garments.  "No, those are for Faith.  Here, Buffy, these are yours."

Dawn snorted from her book, drawing the attention of everyone in the room.  The younger Summers was laying on her bed, nose buried in a book, ignoring the others.  She had been that way since Buffy, Faith, and Spike had decided that they would be going with Aragorn.  She ignored Faith, Spike, and especially Buffy, angry at them over their decision.  But she was almost even more furious with Xander, Willow, and Giles for supporting the idea.

Buffy rolled her eyes at her younger sister, though everyone knew she was torn inside.  She grabbed the dark blue clothes out of Willow's hands, holding them up to get a good look.  They weren't Elven clothes, that was for sure.  They were more like the black and green garments Aragorn had gone hunting in.  Buffy had a thick dark blue shirt with wooden buttons in the front and a matching dark blue tunic with black leather lacings that looked like it would fall past her knees.  Black long pants accompanied them along with a dark blue long coat with long sleeves attached by braided leather cords and dark blue cloak.  The tunic and coat had several long slits in them for flexibility.  All the garments looked as though they had been modified for her to wear.

Faith had something similar, except her shirt and tunic were a faded dark shade of red with black pants, coat, and cloak.  Faith held them up, noting that with a few modifications, they wouldn't have been too out of style on Earth.  "These are great."

"Spike, here!" Willow shouted at the ex-vampire lying on the floor.

He caught his set of clothes, which were all completely black.  He held up the heavy long coat and grimaced, thinking of his old leather duster.  "Better than these things."

"Galadriel also asked me to give you these," Willow said, holding up three pairs of leather boats.  They were unlike Aragorn's, though, in that they looked… "Yes, they were made by the Elven boot makers.  They should be comfortable, though durable, and blend in with the world of Men."

Faith snorted as she grabbed for her black boots.  "I don't care what they look like as long as they're comfy.  I could really use a pair of sneakers."

Xander laughed.  "This from the girl who fought vamps in high-heeled boots?"

Faith shrugged as she pulled on her left boot to test it out.  "Those were my rebellious teen years."

Buffy took her new "traveling clothes" and folded them, laying them out on the edge of her trunk.  "These will work very nicely."

"Aragorn said that you should be able to make your own modifications as time went on," Willow explained to the three as Faith and Spike marveled over their new clothes and Buffy examined her boots.  "Said something about looking into armor and the like."

"What about belts?" Spike asked, pointing at the thin ornate leather belt around his waist.  "Or should I just take one of mine?"

Willow smiled, kneeling down and opening her trunk.  "That is for these."

Out of her trunk, Willow pulled three very different but very real swords, already attached to sheaths hanging from tough-looking, thick braided leather belts.

"Swords!" Buffy squealed, taking the smallest of the three.  It was a smaller broadsword with a clear crystal hilt.  Engraved along the right side were words written in Latin letters.  "_In every generation, a Chosen one is born.  This Chosen gifted to Middle-Earth to fight back our evil_.  Aww, how sweet!"

"Gifts from Arwen," Xander explained.  "She said that she thought each of them went with your personalities."

Faith's sword was larger than Buffy's, but a tad bit thinner.  The hilt of hers was deep cherry red with an ornate silver design laid into the handle.  Faith's sword also had script carved into hers.  "_With Faith, one can do anything their heart desires.  She is the drop of life that falls to earth gently amid the great storm_.  How did she know how to write in English?"

"That was my doing, actually," Giles admitted freely.

Spike's sword was large and black, blade and hilt, with silver gripping twisting around the hilt, coming up to make a silver spike on either side of the black blade.  His inscription was the shortest of all, but the most meaningful.  "_By the night I was wronged.  The night I shall protect.  _Very nice.  Poetic."

Xander bit back a laugh, smiling as he produced more gifts from the hidden side of the bed.  "And from Haldir."

Buffy snorted as she took the polished wooden longbow and wooden quiver filled with arrows.  "What else?"

"They are bows of the Galadhrim," Xander explained as he handed Faith and Spike their own bows and quivers.  "Very valuable.  Very lethal.  It'll be harder working those since you're not Elves, but I think you can do it.  And the arrows in those quivers should only be used when really needed."

"And from us," Willow burst, holding out packages wrapped in cloth.  She grinned excitedly.  "We wrapped ours."

Buffy smiled as she untied the ribbon holding the cloth together.  It fell away to reveal a thick twisted knife and a completely metal hatchet.  "Guys, you shouldn't have."

Faith had been given a pair of knives, one small enough to put in her boot while the other was almost a small sword.  "Very nice."

"Interesting," Spike muttered as he studied his three throwing knives.

Willow beamed.  "You're welcome."

"Well, you have the clothes and the tools," Xander said with a grin.  "Guess you're set."

Giles frowned examining the two Slayers.  "What are you going to do with your hair?"

Faith and Buffy looked at each other.  They had been in Lórien for almost two years, two years in which their hair had grown pretty long by their standards.  Faith shrugged.  "Braid it back?"

Buffy nodded.  "Braid it back."

Faith and Buffy immediately laid out the gifts on the trunks next to their beds.  Besides those, they would be taking nothing of Lórien with them, the only reminders of home the silver crucifix necklaces Faith and Buffy had been wearing when they fell through the portal.  Anything else would be a hindrance.  The Elven dresses the girls had collected during their time in Lórien would be going to Willow, who reassured both Slayers that she would save them for the girls.  Xander and Giles were taking Spike's things, so it was questionable whether or not he'd ever see them again.

After Buffy and Faith had laid out their things and Spike had stacked his in a corner to take up to the room he shared with Giles and Xander later, they all returned to their seats, a tense silence filling the room.

Xander, being the lovable and goofy guy he was, cleared his throat loudly, giving Buffy a pointed look.  "So, last day, huh?"

Buffy nodded uneasily.  "Yeah."

Once again, silence filled the room.

Faith rolled her shoulders, uncomfortable in the tense atmosphere.  "So, we gonna feast for Midsummer or what?"

Buffy brightened.  "Yeah, we have to have a farewell feast."

"I don't know," Willow replied slowly.  She shrugged and straightened.  "Let's go ask Arwen."

"She's out with Aragorn," Xander reminded the redhead.

"Oh, yeah," Willow said softly, eyes quickly filling with tears.  "Saying goodbye."

To say that this silence was tense would be repetitive and an understatement.

Not being able to take anymore, Dawn threw her book onto her bed, jumped to her feet, and quickly fled the room.

Buffy immediately started after her.  "Dawn!"

"Let her go," Giles said, catching his Slayer from behind.  "She needs to think things over."

Buffy shook her head.  "But--"

"I'll go," Faith grunted out with a sigh.  "Not doing anything anyways."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Faith searched all over Lórien for the sullen Dawn Summers.  No one had seen her, no one knew where she was.  She wasn't anywhere in Celeborn and Galadriel's vast home, nor at Haldir's.  Faith would have given up long ago, but knew that if she went back without the girl, Buffy would kill her.

She was on the edge of the city of Caras Galadhon, near the hill of Cerin Amroth.  She had just about had it to the point of being willing to face Buffy's wrath when suddenly something dropped out of the trees above her.  "Boo!"

Faith jumped, but didn't scream.  Instead, she grabbed the younger Summer's arm angrily, pulling the girl closer.  "Dawn?!"

"Shh!" the girl hissed, pulling Faith the opposite direction with the arm the Slayer had in her grasp.

Faith rolled her eyes, turning the girl to face her.  "Dawn, where the hell did you go?!"

"Hush!" Dawn shushed with a panicked look.

"I've been looking for you for hours!" Faith nearly shouted.

"Quiet!" Dawn hissed back, motioning towards the tree she had just jumped out of.  "You have to come see this!"

Faith sighed, then released Dawn, who immediately grabbed the lowest tree limb and swung herself up.  Faith reluctantly followed.

Jumping from tree branch to tree branch, Faith followed Dawn as she silently made her way closer and closer to Cerin Amroth.  When they had finally climbed to the tree closest the hill, Dawn squatted down, motioning for Faith to do the same.

"What am I looking for?" Faith whispered as she sat down next to the younger girl.

Dawn put a finger to her lips, then pointed with the same finger through a gap in the branches towards the hill.

Then Faith saw it.

There, on the top of Cerin Amroth, stood Aragorn and Arwen, deeply engrossed in a game of tonsil hockey.

Faith's mouth dropped open before she recoiled back, turning her gaze away to give the couple their privacy.  "Oh, this is bad."

Dawn grinned evilly, leaning forward to get a better view.  "So?"

"Dawn!" Faith hissed quietly enough to escape the heightened hearing of the she-Elf, not that Arwen would hear it if a marching band suddenly took up practice around her.

"Look!  They stopped kissing!" Dawn whispered, biting her lip in excitement.  She waited for a few moments, then frowned.  "They're not doing anything."

"They have laws against this sort of thing," Faith grumbled, reluctantly turning to make sure the couple wasn't doing anything the seventeen-year-old didn't need to see.

Dawn was right.  They were just standing there, gazing to the East.

Dawn snorted as softly as possible.  "When has that ever stopped you?  Now they're looking to the West.  Is this some sort of Elf mating ritual?"

Faith began to answer, but was cut off as Aragorn turned to Arwen, looking deeply into her eyes.  His words to her were gentle, but the wind carried them to Faith and Dawn's ears.

"I, Aragorn, son of Arathorn, Lord of the Dúnedain, heir of Isildur, Estel of Rivendell, Strider of the Rangers, plight my troth to thee, Arwen Undómiel, Evenstar of the Eldar, daughter of Elrond, Lady of Imladris."

"And I, Arwen Undómiel, Evenstar of the Eldar, daughter of Elrond, Lady of Imladris, plight my troth to thee, Aragorn, son of Arathorn, Lord of the Dúnedain, heir of Isildur, Estel of Rivendell, Strider of the Rangers."

Then Aragorn and Arwen smiled, a true smile that went deeper than just physical.  They were smiling in their souls.  Aragorn leaned down, capturing Arwen's lips with his.  And it was then that both Faith and Dawn witnessed the most tender and loving kiss they had ever had the honor of witnessing.

The two pulled back moments later, never breaking eye contact.  Aragorn rested his forehead against Arwen's, looking deeply within her Elven eyes.  "I love you."

"And I you," Arwen replied strongly.  "Dark is the Shadow, and yet my heart rejoices.  For you, Estel, shall be among the great whose valour will destroy it."

Aragorn stepped back, removing his forehead from hers, though she clasped his hands tightly.  He looked down at the beautiful growing elanor and niphredil, eyes clouded over.  "I cannot foresee it.  And how it may come to pass is hidden from me."  Then he looked back up, stepping once more towards Arwen.  "Yet with your hope, I will hope.  And the Shadow I utterly reject.  But neither is the Twilight for me.  For I am mortal, and if you will cleave to me, Evenstar, the Twilight you must also renounce."

Arwen turned, then, careful not to leave Aragorn's arms and gazed longingly towards the West.

"What's she doing?" Dawn whispered, in complete and total awe of what she was witnessing.

"She's looking West," Faith replied quietly and reverently.  "She's looking towards the Twilight, towards Valinor, the Undying Lands.  She's making her choice.  Immortality and Valinor with her people.  Or Aragorn and death."

At long last, Arwen turned away from the West, looking only at Aragorn.  "I will cleave to you, Dúnadan, and turn away from the Twilight.  Yet there lies the land of my people and the long home of all my kin."

Faith could tell that Aragorn was both ecstatic and heartbroken at the same time.  She watched as the Ranger pulled his betrothed in for another kiss.  Shaking her head, she backed away from the gap in the branches.  "We can't watch this, Dawn."

"Why not?" Dawn asked, voice filled with awe and disbelief.  "It's just getting good."

Faith shook her head, pulling the girl to her feet.  "Because it's wrong."

"Okay," Dawn finally agreed, turning to follow Faith away form the scene.

Unfortunately, in her disappointment, Dawn completely forgot about the small patch of slippery moss growing on the side of the branch they were sitting on.  Her footing slipped and, with a loud shriek, she fell.

Faith, wide-eyed, jumped after the girl.  "Dawn!"

Thankfully, the soft patch of elanor and niphredil was thick, and cushioned Dawn's fall.  Faith landed beside the girl, who was already pushing herself to her feet.  "Stupid moss."

Faith rolled her eyes, helping the girl brush the leaves and other forest plants off her clothes.  Suddenly, the setting sun was blotted out by two shadows.

Aragorn frowned at the pair.  "Dawn?  Faith?"

"Hi, Aragorn," Dawn greeted meekly, knowing they were caught.  "We were just--"

"Leaving," Faith finished, giving Dawn a pointed look.

Arwen ran up behind Aragorn, looking flustered.  "Rossell?"

"Sorry," Faith apologized to the she-Elf without taking her gaze from the younger girl.  "Don't mean to interrupt.  Just need to fetch this one."

"Do not worry," Arwen tried to reassure the Slayer.  "You're not interrupting."

"Yes, we are," Faith replied, grabbing Dawn and pushing her back towards the city.  "We'll see you later."

"Congratulations!" Dawn shouted as she took of for the city at a run.

Aragorn and Arwen looked to Faith, panic in both their eyes.  Faith sighed.  "And don't bother with the looks.  You knew we were there.  You need witnesses for a betrothal to hold up."

Aragorn gave the Slayer a small smile.  "You might benefit from teaching your Dawn the art of stealth."

Faith rolled her eyes.  "I'll leave you guys be.  And she won't tell anyone.  I'll make sure of it."

And to that promise Faith held.  Dawn didn't get the opportunity to tell anyone what she had witnessed.  So when Aragorn and Arwen announced their betrothal that night at the Midsummer's banquet, everyone was shocked.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Buffy was riding a horse.  It was a funny horse, too, one that didn't ride quite right, though how Buffy knew that she wasn't sure.  She was beside a young man she had never seen before.  They were looking up at a big black wall, waiting for something, though what, she didn't know.

The man turned to Buffy and raised his eyebrows.  "Think they will not answer?"

Buffy shook her head, even though she didn't know why she had an answer.  "No.  They'll come."

Even as she said it, the land suddenly shook, drums like thunder shaking from behind the wall.  A man dressed all in black appeared suddenly before her, holding out a metal-glove clad hand.  "Come, Slayer.  Join."

Buffy, no longer on her horse, stumbled back, shaken.  "No."

The man in black laughed, a deep hollow laugh that chilled Buffy to the bone.  "Time to wake up, Slayer."

Buffy shook her head, closing her eyes against the river of blood that suddenly appeared behind the man.  "No…

"Buffy, wake up!"

Buffy's eyes snapped open to reveal she was not before some man about to get swept away by a wall of blood.  She was in bed.  In her bed.  In the room she shared with Faith, Willow, and Dawn.  In Caras Galadhon.  In Lothlórien.  And it was way too early.

"Don't wanna.  Too early."

Willow sighed, shaking the blonde again, harder.  "I know it's early, Aragorn wants to get gone before dawn.  You're leaving today.  Remember?"

Buffy blinked drowsily, rising partially off of her soft feather pillow.  "What?"

"You, Spike, Faith, Aragorn, going to Eriador," Willow reminded the Slayer.  "Now get up."

Buffy pushed herself up.  Willow was already up and dressed in a lacy gown of deep red.  Dawn was nowhere to be found.  Faith was sitting on the edge of her bed, dressed in her new clothes, pulling on her boots.  "C'mon, B.  Lot's to do."

"Yeah," Buffy muttered, accepting the glass of water and bread Willow held out before her.  "Mm.  Where's coffee when you need it?"

Willow chuckled, putting the platter down on her own bed.  Then her laughter was gone, replaced by a voice weighed down by sorrow.  "I can't believe you guys are really going."

"Well, we have to someday," Buffy reassured her friend, sitting the goblet of water and the piece of bread aside as she pushed herself to her feet.  "This way we can do it right."

"Learn what we need to," Faith agreed, sliding her sword into the sheath belted around her waist.  "All that jazz."

Willow smiled a tight forced smile.  "I'm going to miss you both."

Faith raised an eyebrow.  "Even me?"

"Of course you," Willow replied, giving Faith a shocked look.  "We've all made our mistakes, Faith.  I've been where you've been.  You know what it's like."

Faith snorted as she rose to her feet and made her way over to the redhead.  "My fall was a bit worse than yours."

"I don't remember you trying to end the world," Willow pointed out to the dark-haired Slayer.  "Someone I trust told me that to sink into the darkness and temptation, then to turn away from it and rise above it is a feat worthy of honor.  I respect you, Faith.  Respect all that you've gone through.  You've become a good woman.  A woman I trust and come to want by my side."

Faith looked floored.  She opened and closed her mouth several times, too overcome with emotion to even try and form a reply.  In the end, she was able to choke out, "Willow…"

The Slayer had another surprise when the redhead suddenly launched herself at her, pulling her into a tight embrace.  Faith felt tears well up in her eyes as she hugged the witch back with all she was worth.  "Thank you.  You don't know what it means to hear that from you."

Willow pulled back, sniffing, wet tears on her cheeks.  "I'll miss your company.  My friend."

Willow turned to regain her composure, only to find herself face to face with Buffy.  Buffy sighed, putting her hand on her friends shoulder, not knowing what to say.  "Will."

Willow gave Buffy a small smile, before her strong walls came crashing down around her.  "Buffy…"

Buffy gave a small sob as she pulled her friend against her, holding her as close and as tight as possible.  "Eight years, we've never really been apart.  Not like this."

Willow laughed, the sweet sound tainted by the choking presence of tears.  "You have died a couple times."

"You never accepted it," Buffy pointed put, pulling away from the witch.  "You and Xander always brought me back."

Willow half-laughed, half-sobbed again, wiping furiously at her eyes with the sleeve of her dress.  "Yeah, stupid us, right?"

"You're my best friend, Wills," Buffy told the girl, fighting back the breakdown she feared was coming.  "How will I survive without you?"

"You'll have Faith and Spike," Willow pointed out softly.

Buffy gave a choked laugh, wiping at her nose.  "You do know how wrong that sounds, right?"

"You changed my life, Buffy," Willow said quietly, smiling at the blonde before her.  "You helped me become what I was meant to be."

"You changed my life, too," Buffy said, gazing back at the redhead before pulling her into another hug.  "You gave me strength."

"I'm going to miss you so much," Willow choked out slowly, hugging Buffy as tightly as she could.

The curtains in the doorway suddenly parted as Xander pushed his way into the room.  "Hey, Aragorn wanted me to…oh."

Buffy and Willow pulled apart, Buffy giving her old friend a warm smile.  "Xander."

"Just doing the tear-jerking goodbye scene," Willow explained, wiping said tears from her cheeks.

Xander nodded slowly.  Seriously.  "Might as well make mine here, then.  Out of the public eye."

Faith, uncomfortable with witnessing Buffy's private moments with her friends, approached the boy first, holding out her hand.  "Xan."

"Faith," Xander said, taking her hand in his.

Faith grinned at the young man.  "Sorry for trying to kill you."

Xander nodded his head.  "Same."

"And you really are a good lay, " Faith said without hesitation.

Xander snorted, shaking his head.  Then he pulled the Slayer into a brief but meaningful hug.  "Things won't be the same without you."

"Definitely be duller, right?" Faith asked, stepping out of the hug.

Xander nodded.  "Definitely."

Buffy sighed as the second of her two closest friends turned to her.  "Xander, don't do this just yet.  I just got up and I've already had enough emotion for three lifetimes."

"Sorry, Buff," Xander apologized with a small shrug as he started towards her.  "Can't let you leave without saying goodbye.  Not again."

Buffy smiled, as he finally came up to her, placing both hands on her shoulders.  "Wish I could go to Belgium for you."

"Wish I could go with you," Xander murmured before pulling her into his arms.

"You could," Buffy whispered in his ear.

"Nah," Xander said, releasing her.  "Someone has to keep an eye out for Giles and our crazy vixens."

Buffy laughed.  "Nobody better for the job than you."

"It'll be okay," Xander told her with his goofy grin.  "You'll be back before you know it, thrilling us with stories of the big bads you've fought."

"Never fought a big bad without my Scoobies," Buffy murmured quietly.

"You'll always have us, Buff," Xander pointed out.  "We're a part of you.  We're family."

Faith cleared her throat, giving the group and apologetic look.  "We gotta go.  Aragorn and Spike might leave us if we take any longer."

Buffy nodded.  "You sure you have everything?"

Faith patted the sword at her side.  "All I'll need."

"Okay," Buffy said finally with a quick nod.  "Let's go."

She started for the door, but was halted by the clearing of Xander's throat.  "Uh, Buffy?"

Buffy whirled around to face her friend.  "Yeah?"

"You gonna get dressed first?" Xander asked.

"Oh," Buffy said, looking down at her white nightgown.  "Right."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"It's about bloody time," Spike muttered as Buffy, Faith, Willow, and Xander finally joined the small group assembled at the gates of the city.

Aragorn just sighed in relief, swinging himself up on the grey mare he had come to the city on.  Celeborn, Haldir, Galadriel, Arwen, and Giles just smiled as the four walked into the glen.  Dawn scowled.

Buffy gave Spike and Aragorn an apologetic smile.  "Sorry.  We were saying goodbye."

Spike rolled his eyes, left hand playing with the sword strapped to the same side.  "Glad I missed that."

"Yeah," Willow agreed mockingly as she joined Spike.  "Wouldn't want to ruin your image with tears."

"Tears?" Spike scoffed.  "Yeah, right."

Xander raised an eyebrow as he approached the ex-vampire he had shared so much with over the past four years.  "Not gonna say goodbye, then?"

"Of course I am," Spike muttered, holding out his right hand.  "Xander."

"Spike," Xander replied solemnly, taking the man's hand and giving it a firm shake.  "Take care."

Spike smirked.  "You, too, chubs."

Spike turned to Willow, the little redhead giving the ex-vampire a sad look.  "Spike…"

"Red," he replied, wrapping his arms around Willow and hugging her tightly.  "I'll miss you, ducks."

"I'll miss you," the witch replied, tears in her eyes as she released him.

"Dawn," Spike said turning to the still-angry Summers.  "You're great, nibblet."

Dawn scowled at him and turned her back.  "Just go.  It's what you're good at."

Spike nodded, patting the girl in her shoulder.  "Goodbye, Dawn."

Faith joined Spike, putting her hand on the girl's free shoulder.  "I'll miss you, D."

Giles cleared his throat, motioning for the trio to come closer.  "Spike, Faith, Buffy, a word, please."

Faith and Spike glanced at each other, then reluctantly left the resentful Summers' side.  Spike reached the older man first and held out his hand.  "Good knowing you, Watcher."

"You, too, Spike," Giles replied, taking Spike's hand in his.  "You've become one of the best men I've had the pleasure of knowing."

Spike nodded then turned away.  Giles sighed and turned to Faith.  "Faith."

The Slayer shrugged awkwardly.  "Giles."

The Watcher sighed, at a loss for words.  "I'm sorry I failed you--"

"You never failed me," Faith interrupted firmly.  "You've done so much."

Giles pulled Faith in for a small hug, kissing the top of her head lightly.  "You're a good woman, Faith.  A good Slayer."

Faith nodded as she pulled away, then stepped back towards Spike.

Then Giles faced the one goodbye he dreaded most of all.  "Buffy."

"Don't say it," Buffy silenced him, throwing herself into his arms.  "I love you.  You're like my father."

Giles hugged her back as hard as he could.  "I love you."

Aragorn cleared his throat, nodding at the sun that was starting to peek over the horizon.  "We must go."

Celeborn stepped forward, motioning to the three Elves behind him.  "Rossell, Spike, Eirien, these are for you."

Buffy watched, doubtful, as the Elves each led a horse into the clearing.  "What are we supposed to do with those?"

"Parting gifts, from Celeborn and I," Galadriel explained.

Buffy bit her lip uncertainly.  "We have to go on horses?"

Spike rolled his eyes as he accepted a black stallion from one of the Elves.  "Of course we go on horses."

Faith gazed in awe at the white mare she was presented with.  "Oh, Galadriel, these are beautiful animals."

Spike raised an eyebrow.  "You ride, Slayer?"

Faith shrugged.  "It was a hobby."

"Weren't you Victorian?" Willow asked with a sly grin.  "Shouldn't you know how to ride?"

"Or course I know how to ride," Spike replied, swinging himself up into the saddle.  "It's just been awhile."

Buffy stared at the brown horse she was presented with in horror.  "Oh, I can't do this."

"Go on, Buffy," Giles encouraged her, giving her a small push towards the horse.

The horse huffed, causing Buffy to pale even further.  "Nice horsy."

"Do they have names?" Faith asked as she mounted her horse gracefully.

Galadriel held out her hands.  "They did, but as yours, you can rename them what you would."

Buffy sighed, turning her gaze from the monster before her to the group of Elves she had come to think of as family.  "Well.  I hate goodbyes."

"Do not think of it as goodbye, Eirien," Galadriel told the blonde with a smile.

Arwen nodded her agreement, though the younger she-Elf was not smiling as brightly as her grandmother.  "Be safe, Eirien.  You as well, Spike."

Faith gazed down at Arwen as the she-Elf turned towards her.  The bond between Arwen and Faith was strong, stronger than any of the bonds Faith had formed with the other humans.  Faith sighed.  "Arwen, gwathel' nín, lle nach ah nin.  An pân uir."

(Arwen, my sister, you are with me.  Forever.)

Arwen smiled brightly at the dark-haired Slayer.  "Rossell, gwathel' nín, lle nach nin.  Namárië."

(Rossell, my sister, you are me.  Farewell.)

"Namárië," Faith replied with a whisper.

Buffy stared at her sister's turned back.  "Dawn, please."

Dawn hesitated a moment, then turned and flung herself at her sister.  "Don't leave."

"Dawny, we have to," Buffy whispered in her ear as she clung to her sister in the most desperate hug of the morning.

"No, you don't," Dawn replied, holding onto her sister as tightly as she could.  "You don't have to.  We can stay here!"

"And do what?" Buffy asked gently.  "Dawn, we must move on with our lives."

"We are all the other has," Dawn told her sister, pulling back enough so that their eyes could meet.  "Don't give that up."

Buffy smiled sadly, running a hand down the side of Dawn's face.  "Dawn, we still have each other.  We're sisters, we're blood, and we're even more than that."

Dawn looked down for a moment, then back up at Buffy, tears in her eyes.  "I'm going to lose you to this."

The Slayer started, confused.  "What?"

"You're making a life without me," Dawn explained simply.  "I'll make a life without you.  We'll be like those sisters who never see each other except on Christmas.  Except we won't see each other at Christmas either, 'cause Christmas don't exist here!"

"Dawn, do you want me to stay here with you?" Buffy asked softly.  "Truly?  If you tell me that you truly want me to give this chance up, then I will.  But think on what will become of us."

Dawn snorted.  "You're starting to talk like them."

"I love you, little sister," Buffy said, reaching towards the younger girl again.

Dawn caught her sister's hand in her own, backing away from the hug.  "I love you.  Go.  Before I change my mind."

Buffy nodded, then, with all the strength she had, turned away from the young girl.  She half-curtsied, half-bowed to the Elvish nobles gathered.  "Galadriel, Celeborn, thank you for everything."

"It is our pleasure," Galadriel told them warmly.  "I feel like a mother again."

"You will always be welcomed in Lórien as you would be in your homeland," Celeborn declared with a small bow.

Buffy turned and nodded to Arwen.  "Arwen, namárië."

The she-Elf smiled back.  "Namárië, meldis'nín."

(Farewell, my friend.)

Then Buffy turned to the horse.  "Okay.  I can do this."

Ten minutes later, all were cringing at the scene playing out before them.

"Buffy, no, put your foot…no, the right foot…"

"Eirien, look out for the…no, that's not his leg…"

"Buffy, grab hold and pull!"

Haldir, having had enough, stepped forward, taking Buffy's hand in his.  "Sí."

(Here.)

In one easy motion, Haldir had pushed Buffy up into the saddle with nothing but his hands.  She smiled down at the Elf.  "Thanks, Hal."

Haldir frowned.  "My name is not Hal."

Buffy laughed.  "Stay cool."

Haldir gave a small bow as he backed quickly away from the horse.  "Eirien."

Aragorn turned his horse, nodding to Celeborn and Galadriel.  "Hir'nín.  Híril'nín."

They both nodded back.  "Lord Aragorn."

He turned to Arwen.  "Arwen."

"Namárië," she replied easily.

"Noro lim," he urged his horse, which immediately started forward.

"Go on, then," Spike muttered, using all his strength not to turn for the last look he knew would do him in.

Buffy went next, unsure on her horse, but knowing enough to steer.  "Um, giddy up!"

Faith sighed, taking up the rear silently.

Dawn watched them go, collapsing to the ground as soon as the group was beyond the gates.  And the tears came.  Willow, Xander, and Giles made no move to comfort her.  They were to busy consoling themselves.

"Goodbye."

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A/N:  Pretty please review?


	15. Sisterly Duties

A/N:  I LOVED the extended version of The Two Towers.  The scene with Boromir and Faramir…so sad!  Well, I'm WAY inspired, so here's Chapter 15.

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--Buffy's POV--

I shouldn't have left Dawn.  Not like that.  Not crying in the middle of a glen, deserted…alone.

Oh, Mom, I know I promised that I'd never leave her, but this had to be done.  I know it.  I had to leave her.  I have to remember that I didn't really leave her alone.  She's with Willow, Xander, and Giles.  They love her like family.  God, they _are_ our family.  The only family we have left.  I shouldn't have left them either.  But they'll be okay.

I can't feel my ass.  I literally think my ass has fallen off of my body.  This is a stupid way to travel.  Riding an animal.  That shouldn't be allowed.  I'd give anything for a car.  Or a bicycle.  Rollerblades, even.  I want to kill this stupid animal.  It's big and brown and smells like shit.  It probably is shit.  Shit on hooves.

Why am I suddenly making Xander-sense?  We've been at this for too long.  I'm tired and, as previously stated, my ass is no more.  We've been riding non-stop since dawn and it's now about ten at night.  And we haven't even been riding hard!  This horse thing is gonna take some getting use to.  I now understand why Galadriel decided this was best saved for now.  It stinks in ways that are really stinky.

God help me, I don't even have the strength to be witty anymore.  I've been dieing and witty.  Oh, I really want to stop.  Aragorn is a slave driver.  Faith and Spike aren't helping.  Spike, being Mr. I-Was-Alive-Before-Electricity, can ride his horse very well.  He seems to respect his…_beast_ and they're doing just fine.  And Faith!  When did she learn to ride a horse?!  She talks to hers!  It does what she wants it to do!  She even named the creature!  It's so not fair!  They can ride, why can't I?!  Maybe because I lived my entire life in Southern California.  Closest I've been to a horse was when those knights of Byzantium guys were chasing Dawn.  So, nope, I don't ride.  I'm just Bounce-Along Buffy.

God, it's gotta be time to stop and make camp or whatever.  What does Aragorn expect?  To ride straight through to Rivendell?  Maybe I should say something.

"Hey, guys?!" I called.  Nearly had to shout.  Yes, I'm bringing up the rear, and what a lovely view it is, too.  Three horse-asses and the backsides of their riders.

Faith did some quick move with her right hand that caused her white mare to turn around sharply.  Wish I could do that.  She looked tired.  Faith, not the horse.  Guess I looked worse though.  She looked really concerned.  "You okay, B?"

By this time, Aragorn and Spike had stopped, turned their horses around, and had them trot back to Faith's side.  Damn showoffs.  "I'm fine.  I was just wondering when we're going to start on a camp."

Aragorn frowned and cast a quick glance around.  Not that there's much to see.  It's a cloudy night and the moon and stars are completely blocked.  We're also in between some kind of rolling plateau and a forest.  The forest is gross and dark.  It gives me the wiggins.

Aragorn sighed.  "I had hoped to get further South, but this will have to do for tonight.  We are far enough from the roads to be safe from the highwaymen, yet close enough in case of emergency.  We'll make camp along the river Limlight."

Limlight.  Great.  How far might that be?

"Less than a league away.  Come!"

Guess I said that last part out loud.  Oh, well.  At least he's willing to make camp.  That should be fun.

The others slowed down a bit, falling back to keep me company.  That's real nice.  They have to slow down just so I can keep up.

I looked to Aragorn in curiosity.  "So, how long to Rivendell?"

"From here, we cross Limlight into the Wold," Aragorn droned as if he had already answered this question.  He probably had, since he and Spike and Faith had been deep in conversation for hours while I toddled after them.  "It will be two days through that to the Onodló.  From there, we turn East, and trek across the northern borders of Rohan.  It will take us three days to reach the Gap of Rohan."

"Why are we going this way?" Faith asked suddenly.  "Why not take the High Pass?"

"You three need to acquaint yourselves with the lands," Aragorn explained to her.  "We'll take the High Pass when we go to Forodwaith."

I nodded, understanding his sense.  He was going to show us the ways of the Rangers, but that didn't mean we'd always be with him later.  "Are we going to take the Old South Road?"

"For awhile," he replied, looking over at the wiggy forest as if he was having a bit of a wiggins.  "The roads are not safe, even to us.  We will only keep to it for a week, until we cross the river Gwathló.  From there, we'll follow the river Mitheithel to the Great East Road and follow that to Rivendell."

Spike snorted.  "Is that how you would really do it if you were alone?"

Aragorn shook his head.  "No."

"I thought we were going to learn the Wild," I said, wondering why in the world he would take us by the roads when we were supposed to learn how to live in the Wild.  "Why not start teaching us now?"

"Because you're having a hard enough time crossing a plateau," he replied easily.  There was no malice in his voice, he was just stating a fact, but, still, the truth hurt.  I must have let my feelings show in my expression, for he turned to give me an encouraging smile.  "Do not worry, Buffy.  You will have enough opportunities to live in the Wild."

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The trip was long and hard.  We kept to Aragorn's schedule and route.  Even though it was the easier road, it was the most exhausting trip I'd ever taken.  Not that I'd ever admit it.  Spike and Faith are pretty tired too.  None of us are used to anything like this.  But Aragorn keeps on pushing.

Oh, excuse me, we aren't supposed to call him Aragorn anymore.  Here, he's known as Strider and Strider he wants to be called.  He's been calling us by those stupid Elvish names, too.  Even named Spike.  Erniethan Caralogos, Wronged One Spike Storm.  Where _do_ they come up with these things?!  Anyways, those are the names we're supposed to go by and by those names we will go.  Something about saving our true identities for only our loved ones.  My opinion, Aragorn is hiding from being the multi-great-grandkid of that Ice-guy.

Well, after two uneventful weeks to Tharbad, the bridge that crossed the Gwathló River, we spent another week traveling up to the Great East Road, to the Last Bridge and Trollshaws.  Now, we're just one day's hard ride from Rivendell.

The trip has been educational.  All along the road, Aragorn was pointing out places, making sure we learned the lay of the land.  The two places that gave me the wiggins were Fangorn Forest and Isengard.  I don't know why.  The Forest is one thing, everyone's afraid of it.  But Isengard is home to that Saruman guy Celeborn told us about.  Oh, well, guess the Spidey-Sense is outta whack.

We also met a few interesting people on the road.  No one of really big importance, but they were interesting to talk to all the same.

We learned to hunt!  Well, we already learned a long time ago going hunting with Haldir, but it's different hunting in Lórien with a group of Elves than it is hunting in the Wild with just three other people.  And in Lórien, if we didn't get anything, it was okay, we still had fun.  Here, we don't catch anything, we starve.

Aragorn also gave us some pointers on our sword fighting.  Spike was really getting into it, but I like the two-dagger approach better.  Faith is really starting to get good with the longbow.  I guess she would, remembering her history with the thing.  She was a good shot as a beginner, though I shudder to think about that.

I think I'm getting the hang of this horse thing.  I'm the last one.  Faith and Spike already have "relationships" with their horses.  Faith calls hers Hwest, which is Sindarin for Puff.  If she ever figures out how to translate "Puff, the Magic Dragon", I'll kill her.  Spike calls his horse, surprise, Manchester.  I was thinking about calling mine Shit.  But Spike says that is cruel and unusual punishment.  This from the guy who named his horse after some stupid soccer team.

Oh, I amend my earlier statement of just the two places giving me the wiggins.  This place is totally creepy, too.  It's less to do with a feeling and more to do with the fact that there are great big giant statues of trolls.  Ick!

Faith really doesn't like them either.  She stared at the one in the flickering firelight and shuddered.  "Is it just me, or do the eyes follow you wherever you go?"

"I really hope it's just you," I replied, making a huge effort to ignore the weird things eyes.  I sighed.  "I'm hungry!  When are Spike and Strider going to come back?"

"Don't know," she replied with a shrug, kicking at a rock in the ground.  We were supposed to be making camp, though we had been done for what had to have been an hour.  Spike and Aragorn were both out trying to catch some dinner.  "You're not supposed to call Spike 'Spike'.  It's 'Erniethan' now."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know," I muttered rolling my eyes.  I toed the fire once more, watching as brilliant red embers flew up into the air.

Suddenly, a strange noise came from the trees around us, like a birdcall, only lower, more pronounced.

Faith sat up sharply, her hand going to the sword at her side, though she did not draw it.

I, like Faith, found my hand resting on my sword, as I looked around the glen sharply.  "Spike?"

I received no answer.  Faith bit her lip, looking around as I did for any sign of what might have made the noise.  "Strider, that you?"

Again, the only answer we received was the chilling silence.  It occurred to me then that it was too quiet, especially for night in a forest.

Faith realized this, too, for she slowly started to push herself up onto her feet, remaining in a low crouch.  "Not good."

"How is it that you know of Strider?" a rough masculine voice suddenly cut through the night.

Faith and I were instantly on our feet, back to back, swords drawn.  I looked around again, but even in the fire and moonlight, I saw nothing.  "Who's there?"

Once again, we received no answer.  My senses crawling, yet picking up nothing, it was an understatement to say that I was very nervous.  Behind me I could feel the muscles of Faith's back tense even through the many layers of clothing, and feel her shift her head as she looked up.  "Buff, trees."

I understood her meaning immediately.  She wanted to seek refuge in the trees.  It would be wise, there was more cover for us up there then down on the ground, and we might be able to see a bit farther than we were able to at the moment.

I nodded my agreement.  "Yeah."

I froze, waiting for her to indicate the moment she wanted to act.

Faith hesitated, then nodded.  "Now!"

I jumped straight up with all I was worth, but in mid-jump, something rammed into my side, forcing me back against the troll statue.  I hit hard, the breath knocked out of me, and beside me I could hear Faith gasp as she slammed into the statue as well.  "Hey!"

Quickly regaining my senses, I pushed myself away form the rock, only to find I could not move.  "What the--"

"Faith!  Buffy!"

Spike crashed into the clearing, knocking down a man clothed in dark grey. As soon as the man was down, whatever was holding Faith and I against the statue was released.  I slumped to the ground, taking in a deep breath, then jumped up, sword at the ready.

Aragorn appeared suddenly, tackling Spike and pushing him away from our attacker.  "Erniethan, no!"

The man stood, brushing himself off.  I could now see that he was an old man, wearing a rough grey robe.  He saw Aragorn and immediately smiled.  "Ah, Aragorn."

Aragorn released Spike, giving him one last push to make sure he remained far enough away so that he would have the advantage if Spike decided to attack again.  Aragorn then turned to the old man, grinning broadly, taking the stranger by the arm and greeting him as if he were a friend.  "Gandalf.  It's been a few years."

Sensing that there was no longer much of a danger from the old man, I lowered my sword, but did not sheath it.  "Uh, Aragorn, want to help us out?"

This Gandalf guy noticed Faith and I and smiled, bowing his head in apology.  "Oh, pardon me, my dear."

Spike stood, grabbing the large pointed hat and twisted looking staff that he had knocked from the man when he had rammed him.  He handed them back to the man, careful to scoot away from him as soon as he had a firm grasp.

The old man nodded to Spike, accepting the items.  "Many thanks."

Aragorn sighed, turning to Faith and I and motioning us to put our weapons away.  I did so, very reluctantly.  "Gandalf, I'd like to introduce you to Erniethan Caralagos, Eirien Dagnirulun, and Rossell Bronwe.  I believe Lord Celeborn might have written to you of them."

"Yes, I dare say he did," Gandalf replied, sitting himself down on a fallen tree branch close to the fire, examining Spike, Faith, and I intently.  "Other-worlders.  Yet, though not of this world, you have Elven names."

I shrugged, taking my old seat on a small rock, watching the man warily.  "They gave us weird names and won't call us anything but."

"I am a big believer in names," Gandalf replied with a smile.  "Names show who and what you are, give you power.  I am Gandalf the Grey of the Istari, also known as Mithrandir to the Elves."

"Mithrandir?" Spike repeated, instantly relaxing and sitting back down next to the fire.  "Galadriel mentioned you a lot."

Now I remember him.  He's one of the Istari, a wise wizard sent to Middle-Earth by the Valar.  And, from what I could gather from Arwen and Aragorn, an all around good guy.  I nodded to him, motioning towards myself.  "I'm Buffy Summers."

"Faith," my sister-Slayer said as she sat down next to me.

Spike nodded, holding out his hand to the wizard.  "Spike, or William the Bloody if you prefer."

"Strong names," Gandalf murmured, taking Spike's hand in his own.  "Strong names indeed."

"Thanks," I replied stupidly, wondering how he could guess that my name was strong since it didn't have an obvious meaning.

Gandalf smiled, nodding to Aragorn, who immediately came up with several small rabbits that he and Spike had presumably caught.  Gandalf relaxed as Aragorn set to work preparing dinner, turning to us.  "Well, let's get acquainted.  I would like to know more of you, especially if I am to help you return to your homeland."

Faith sat up sharply.  "Home?"

"What do you want to know?" I asked eagerly, willing to tell the old man anything if he could get us home.

The wizard grinned broadly.  "Everything."

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A/N:  Raise your hand if you like Gandalf.  Anyways, there's Chapter 15.  Feel happy, we're halfway there.  Of course, this entire story is basically a prequel…

I hope I didn't just scare anyone off.

Well, I just spotted another mouse (we're having a bit of a problem…but it's nice…instant pets!) so I better run.


	16. Seeking Refuge

A/N:  I'm a liar.  Sorry about the wait.  Please, forgive me.  Um…more scenes from the book mutated to suit my needs.  Hope it doesn't offend.

Okay.  Just a few replies to some reviews.  A lot of people have been like "a bint is a woman!"  Well, I know that.  It was an expression.  Spike was supposed to call himself a girl.  I've known dozens of guys that call themselves 1bitches (and my guy friends from "over there" have called themselves bints as well).  I was just trying to make a funny, not make myself out as stupid.  Someone also said that the Elves were being a bit too rude for their culture.  Well, they would treat some guests like royalty, of course, but the Scoobies aren't really guests.  At first, they're pseudo-prisoners, and they sort of evolve into family, and let's face it, who is ever polite to family (the family you're comfy with, not those extended types you're 'rents expect you to impress).  And on Haldir's frostiness…we really don't see enough of him in the books to make a judgment on his character, but it is made very clear that he's way anal-retentive when it comes to Lórien…he loves his home, and anything that could be a threat he jumps all over.  I don't see him being trusting of our guys, not at first.  

Again, if anyone wants the pairings of this story, they have to type in a review "Please send me the pairings at myemail@whatever.com".

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Nestled in a rich green valley between the hills of the Misty Mountains, one lone refuge in those uncertain times stood proud and true.  The Last Homely House, it was set amidst the rolling forests, winding streams, and crystal falls near the Ford of Bruinen.   The complex of connecting houses, if one could call the dwellings so intimately entwined with nature "houses", glowed from their perch on the mountainside, calling those Elves and Elf-friends who were weary to their protected borders.  It was a place of great grandeur, of ethereal beauty, a haven for those in need, ever flowing with the natural world around it in elegance and grace.

Sitting atop their strong steeds on the path towards the refuge that ran along the cliffs, Buffy, Faith, and Spike froze to stare in awe, Aragorn coming up short just behind them.  Buffy looked down on the Elven settlement in wonder.  Never before had she seen anything like it.  It was unlike Lórien's vast trees and towering flets.  But the artwork and the craftsmanship had its similarities.  As if they were but echoes of one another.  A culture divided.  But, even for their differences, Lothlórien and Imladris had one large similarity: their ethereal timelessness.  "Oh, my god."

Beside Buffy, Faith shifted on Hwest, her mouth slightly open as she beheld Rivendell for the first time.  "It's beautiful."

"This is…" Spike began, trailing off as the words to describe 

"Like it here better than Lórien?" Aragorn asked, somehow sliding between the three along the narrow path.

"No," Faith replied honestly.  Buffy and Spike gave the Slayer a look before shaking their own heads.

No place would ever be as beautiful as the woods of Lórien for any of them, with, perhaps, the understandable exception of…well…anywhere on Earth.  Lórien was their sanctuary in Middle-Earth.  It was almost home, though not home by a long shot at the same time.

"It's just a different kind of beauty," Buffy replied honestly, knowing that Aragorn felt the same way about Rivendell as she and the others felt about Lothlórien.  She gazed at the refuge, trying to remember to breathe.  She could understand why Aragorn would feel that way.  "It's…wow."

"This is Imladris?" Spike asked, looking as if he thought it might be too good to be true.

"Rivendell," Aragorn almost sighed, much to his companions' amusement.  "It has stood for thousands of years, refuge from evil for all those who are weary.  Its master is the Lord Elrond Half-Elven, father of Arwen Undómiel and foster-father to Aragorn, son of Arathorn."

"So, Arwen's like your sister, then?" Buffy asked, turning to Aragorn and wrinkling her nose a bit.  "Isn't that kind of gross with you guys betrothed and all sibling like?"

"Betrothed?"

Buffy winced as the old brownish-gray mare that carried the wizened Gandalf trotted up behind the group.  She hazarded a glance at Aragorn to see that he did, indeed, have the slightest look of tension on his face.  They all knew from experience that when Aragorn even looked the slightest bit tense, it usually translated to a large amount of inner turmoil that nobody wanted to be centered on them.

Aragorn turned to Gandalf, eyes shifting uncomfortably.  "Ah, yes."

Gandalf studied Aragorn for several seconds, cool eyes narrowed as he lost himself in his thoughts.  The old wizard finally seemed to reach some sort of conclusion and gave a stiff, calculated nod, his expression unreadable.  "We must discuss this later."

Gandalf urged his horse onward and he was soon trotting down the path the Rivendell once more, mumbling something about roads going on.  Faith made some sort of choked laughing sound in the back of her throat, then followed, fighting back a smile.  Spike gave Buffy a sympathetic look before heading after the dark-haired Slayer.  This left Buffy with a very quite Aragorn, an Aragorn currently glaring daggers at the blonde Slayer.  Buffy cringed at the Ranger's dark look.  "Sorry."

Aragorn narrowed his eyes before turning to follow the rest of the group as they made their way to his childhood home.  Sighing to herself, Buffy gave her own four-legged nightmare a light nudge with her heels, willing it to start moving again.  

The path to Rivendell was steep and narrow, but the group easily made their way downward to the refuge without so much as a second thought.  As Buffy crossed the bridge, she felt a sense of peace settle over her.  She closed her eyes for a moment, relishing in what she knew to be the magics of the Elven sanctuary.  She felt herself relaxed, felt the tension that had been building the last several weeks start to unravel and leave her muscles, and welcomed the feeling.  The music of Imladris sang to her, from the chirping of the birds, the rushing of the falls, the rustling of the wind to the gentle melodies that rang clear from Elven voices and Elven instruments.  The fresh smells the clean waters and gentle forests brought to her seemed suddenly more comforting than they had just moments before when she had been living as one with them.

A small turn to the right, under a magnificently sculpted stone archway/gate, and Buffy was in Rivendell.  She cast a quick look around, devouring the haven built up around her.  She seemed to be in some sort of courtyard.  To her left, a beautiful white-wood gazebo swirled into itself.  Directly ahead of her there was a path that led upwards to what looked to be the main house of the spiraling complex.  An open walkway that connected the dwellings in a way that almost echoed the platforms between the flets of Caras Galadhon was draped above the path, connecting the small house to the left to the larger dwelling on the right.  And, of course, trees, flowers, bushes, other plants, animals and a small stream seemed interconnected throughout it all.

Buffy let herself slide slowly down from her mount, eyes drinking in the sight of it all.  Beside her, Faith and Spike were doing the same.  Aragorn had reverted back to his amused little self, watching the trio take their first looks around the refuge.  Gandalf was grumbling in agitation.  Buffy whistled lowly, nodding her approval.  Aragorn smirked at this, taking the reins of Buffy's still unnamed horse from her.  

"Estel!"

Aragorn looked up sharply, causing the rest of the group to turn their gaze to the person calling Aragorn by his Elvish name.  A she-Elf glided to Aragorn and gave a small bow.  She was very different looking for an Elf.  She was tall, as all Elves were, and she had the smooth creamy skin that glowed with that ethereal inner light that seemed so common in Elves.  But the thing that set this woman apart from most Elves any of the humans had met was her coloring.  She had deep golden-brown eyes and strawberry-blonde hair.  Her small, slightly upturned nose and round eyes gave her a very different look than the average she-Elf.  She smiled up at Aragorn, golden-brown eyes sparkling.  "Mae govannen!"

Aragorn bowed, a wide grin spreading across his own face.  "Mae govannen, Fingalan."

Fingalan's gaze shifted around until it rested on Gandalf.  "Ah, Mithrandir!"

"Hello, Fingalan, sweet girl," Gandalf greeted her with a smile and a bow.

Fingalan looked from him to the trio of humans.  "You have brought visitors?"

"Travelers from the North," Aragorn easily gave the she-Elf their cover story.  "Buffy, Faith, Spike, this is Fingalan, daughter of Lalvin."

"Mae govannen," Spike said as he imitated the Elven bow Aragorn and Gandalf had given the woman moments before.  Faith and Buffy both settled on a deep nod.

Fingalan smiled warmly.  "Mae govannen.  Lord Elrond is in his study.  I could send for him--"

"No need, Fingalan, I am here."

They all whirled around to find a very regal looking Elf standing behind them.  His hair was dark like his daughter's and his face cool and wizened.  The familial resemblance to Arwen was obvious, though this Elf's features seemed sharper.  His eyes, though, were the most compelling feature of all.  They were very wise and very sharp, as if this Elf knew all.  It was reminiscent of Galadriel's all seeing gaze.

The Elf's gaze swept over all of them, finally coming to rest on Aragorn.  "Ah, Estel, ionnath'nín."

(My son.)

Aragorn bowed lowly and reverently.  "My Lord."

Elrond gave the Man a small smile before turning to the older wizard.  He raised an eyebrow very sharply, but coolly.  "Gandalf, your coming is unexpected.  To what honor do we hold this welcome surprise?"

"To these three intriguing people," Gandalf replied in his powerful voice.  He stepped aside and gestured to the three humans waiting nervously beside him.  "Lord Elrond, it is my pleasure to introduce you to Master William, Mistress Faith, and Mistress Buffy, all of the Northern Realms.  They have long been abiding in Lórien."

Spike once again was quick to bow to Elrond as in the Elven customs.  Faith gave the Elf something between a curtsey and a bow while Buffy lowered her head.

Elrond studied them for a moment, his sharp eyes seeming to take everything they were in.  "So these are the strangers from the…North.  My daughter has had much to say about you."

Spike, knowing and accepting that his was the role of leader since he was the male, stood straight and proud, meeting Elrond's gaze head on.  "Thank you, my Lord."

The Elven Lord smiled softly, extending his arm in welcome.  "Welcome to Rivendell."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aragorn leaned against the window with his left arm, watching the sun sank slowly out of view beyond the westward horizon.  The brilliant colors of the evening streaked across the sky, bathing his childhood home in hues of red and gold.  He loved Rivendell.  It was the home of his youth.  The first home he had known.  It was always there, a refuge in times of trouble.  And trouble was coming.  As the sun fell out of the sky and darkness crept ever closer from the east, he was reminded of the ever-darkening Shadow that threatened them from the same direction.

Buffy, Faith, and Spike knew what was coming.  Well, they had an idea taught to them from a remembered past hobby of Willow, Xander, and Giles.  He knew that the worst was yet to come and that it would be very long in coming.  Faith had let that much slip.  She had confessed her worries of his, Arwen's, and the Galadhrim's safety, that she would not be there to help them.  She knew she would die before the Shadow came to them, and, for some odd reason, this comforted Aragorn.  His strange companions were different, but in the year he had known them, he found himself becoming close to them.  He knew their pasts were filled with the turmoils of their world.  He was comforted knowing that they would at least be spared the turmoil of this foreign world.

"Are they settling in?"

Aragorn turned slightly as Elrond came to stand next to him.  Down below in a room easily seen through the open windows from their position, Buffy seemed to be acting something out for Gandalf.  The strong woman was smiling, raising her arm and pretending to stab Spike over and over again with something.  Spike swatted at her with a grin as Faith laughed hard at their antics.  Gandalf seemed mightily amused, commenting to them, though Aragorn and Elrond were too far away to hear, even with Elrond's Elven ears.

Aragorn smiled, watching as Faith relaxed for the first time since before they had left Caras Galadhon.  "They find your home enchanting.  There is little like this in their homeworld, if I understand correctly."

Elrond nodded in agreement.  "They are very strange.  Very young, even by the standards of Men, but are also very wise."

"They have faced many trials in their time," Aragorn murmured in awe as he watched Spike grab Buffy and toss her over his shoulder.  "They are strong warriors.  Strong people."

Elrond paused for a moment or two, watching Buffy wriggle out of Spike's grasp.  "How long do you plan on staying?"

"Not long," Aragorn replied immediately.  "One night, maybe two.  Give them time to tell their story to both you and Gandalf."

"They are desperate to find a path back to their homeworld," Elrond said knowingly.

Aragorn sighed.  "I do not know how such a thing is possible, traveling from one world to another by way of portal.  That knowledge is beyond me."

"As it is beyond me," Elrond admitted sadly.  "I do not know a way to help them.  If Galadriel could not find a way, I doubt anyone can."

Aragorn knew before they had arrived that help could not be found in Rivendell.  Not in that way.  "They have adapted well, that is for sure."

"Yes, they have," Elrond replied dryly, raising an eyebrow as Buffy and Spike stopped wrestling and hugged each other.  "Arwen tells me that she believes that they could have great futures here, if they do not despair for their homes."

Aragorn blinked.  He turned slowly to fully face the only father he had ever known.  He chose his nest words deliberately, cautiously.  "You have had word from Lórien?"

Elrond turned to Aragorn, smile gone, eyes full of sorrow.  "I have had word from Lórien."

Aragorn fought the compulsion to gulp, knowing the reason for Elrond's look.  "Then you expected us."

"Yes, I did," Elrond murmured lowly, eyes drifting away as he started to look old.  "I expected you."

Aragorn sighed.  He had known since the beginning that this day would come, that words would have to be spoken.  Knowing it did not make it any easier.  "Master Elrond, I--"

"Quiet, child," Elrond cut him off quickly, but not harshly.  The Elf sighed, looking to Aragorn, deep into the Man's eyes.  "My son, years come when hope will fade.  And beyond them, little is clear.  And now a Shadow lies between us.  Maybe, it has been appointed so, that by my loss, the kingship of Men might be restored."

Elrond sighed and shook his head once, a hand coming to rest on the Man's shoulder.  "Therefore, though I love you, I say to you: Arwen Undómiel shall not diminish her life's grace for less cause.  She shall not be the bride of any Man less than the King of Gondor and Arnor.  To me then even our victory can bring sorrow and parting…but to you, hope of joy for a while."

Aragorn nodded, expecting and accepting Elrond's terms for his daughter's hand.  But he could not bring himself to speak.  As Aragorn, the Man who loved Arwen, he knew this was necessary and would do anything to make her his.  But as Estel, the foster-son pf Elrond, he felt like a horrible traitor, being the cause of the Elf he loved as a father's grief.

Elrond just sighed softly, looking out into the night.  "Alas, I fear that to Arwen, the Doom of Men may seem hard at the ending."

"I understand, my Lord," Aragorn finally said, sad and happy at the same time.  Though, in his heart, he knew he had no right to be happy, for this would ultimately bring death to his love.  He sighed.  "It weighs heavy upon me as well."

Elrond turned and smiled softly at Aragorn.  "No more of this.  Let us go now and speak with these humans, as you call them.  I would know more of them."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gandalf guffawed loudly, leaning back in his seat as he watched the blonde woman tell her story.  Buffy stood in the center of the sitting room, smiling merrily as she acted out her tale.  Spike, who had been there, sat off to the side, picking at his nails in boredom, interjecting his own comments every now and then.  Faith, who, Buffy had explained to Gandalf, had been in a coma at the time (though Gandalf wasn't quite sure what a coma was), listened in half-interest, not so much interest in the tale as it was interest in Buffy making a fool out of herself with her more-than-wanting acting abilities.  

Buffy, oblivious to her friends' opinions of her performance, continued.  "So Willow says something like 'you're nothing but a demon magnet' and Xander gets mad and goes home.  Well, not but a little while later, demons start pouring into his home, chasing him, coming to him as if they really were drawn to him, and--"

"Excuse the interruption."

All eyes turned to the door as Elrond and Aragorn stepped into the room.  Spike quickly rose to his feet and Faith shifted from her Indian-style position on the sofa to a more dignified position that Celeborn had always insisted she used.  Buffy straightened and smiled brightly at the pair.  "Oh, hey!"

"Some place you've got here," Spike complemented, gesturing to the sitting room they had been given to use.  It connected to a path outside that led to several bedrooms, three of which had been set aside for the humans' use.

Faith nodded glancing up at Aragorn.  "Did you really grow up here?"

Aragorn gave the Slayer a small smile.  "Yes."

"This is great," Buffy said, eyes still filled with awe.  "Really.  All open and with the nature."

Elrond smiled softly at the group.  "It pleases me to hear such praise of my home."

Buffy reddened a little for some unknown reason and shrugged.  "Well, it sure deserves it."

"Please, be seated," Elrond said, gesturing for Spike, Buffy, and Aragorn to sit down.  Spike retook his seat in a cushioned chair.  Aragorn took the chair next to him while Buffy sat down next to Faith on the sofa.  Elrond himself sat down in a chair beside Gandalf.

Elrond cleared his throat, instantly taking on a serious disposition.  "If you would, please tell me of yourselves and your homeland."

"Um, okay," Buffy started, shrugging off her playfulness and settling down.  "I'm Buffy Summers, though the Elves call me Eirien.  I'm the Slayer--"

"One of the Slayers," Faith interrupted lowly.

"Yeah," Buffy continued with a nod.  "I'm _a_ Slayer."

Elrond frowned slightly at this.  "What is a Slayer?"

"Chosen warrior," Spike explained as if from a textbook.  "For the Powers of Light, gifted with enhanced physical strength so she can combat the forces of darkness."

"Forces of darkness?" Gandalf repeated thoughtfully.

Buffy nodded.  "Demons, vampires, evil warlocks and witches, giant snakes, psycho government robots, hellgoddesses, hyena people--"

"Rogue Slayers," Spike supplied.

Faith shot Spike a withering look.  "How about psycho ex-boyfriends?"

Buffy rolled her eyes, but continued.  "And so on."

Gandalf raised his eyebrows.  "Impressive history."

Buffy smiled humbly.  "We like to think so."

Elrond turned to Spike and Faith, who were still glaring at each other.  "And you two?"

Faith blinked, turning to Elrond.  "I'm a Slayer, too.  Faith.  The pointy-eared like to call me Rossell Bronwe."

Elrond smiled slightly.  "That would be Arwen's doing, correct?"

"Yeah," Faith replied slowly.  "How did you know?"

"She tends to be very poetic about some things," Elrond explained vaguely.

Spike snorted, then shrugged.  "William the Bloody, though I prefer Spike.  Erniethan Caralogos according to Aragorn."

"Are you a Slayer as well?" Gandalf asked.

"Oh, no," Spike answered quickly.  "Slayers can only be girls.  I'm not a girl."

"I can confirm that," Buffy muttered darkly.

"Spike was a vampire--" Faith started.

Gandalf quickly cut in, confusion in his eyes.  "Which is?"

"A vampire is a dead body possessed by a demon…sort of," Faith explained.  "They're dead, but they look completely human.  Walk, talk, sleep, screw…all that jazz."

Spike nodded.  "They drink the blood of regular mortal beings to survive."

"You are a demon?" Elrond asked, sitting back in his chair.

"Was," Spike clarified.

Buffy sighed, rubbing her forehead.  "It's a very, very, _very_ long story.  Let's just say he redeemed himself."

Elrond still kept his eyes locked on Spike, watching him warily.  "How is that possible?"

"He gave up his life to save the world," Aragorn answered, watching Gandalf and Elrond's reactions in amusement.

"Don't look so smug over there, bub," Buffy quipped.  "You looked every bit as shocked and confused as they do."

Faith sighed, ignoring Buffy.  "The Powers decided he had proven himself worthy, so they sent him back again, completely human."

"Almost completely," Spike corrected.

Gandalf frowned.  "What is this _almost_?"

"I've retained the strength I had as a demon," Spike explained.  "I'm almost as strong as the girls here.  I've noticed that I heal a lot faster than Xander or Willow.  My reflexes are still just as sharp as they were when I was a vampire, which is saying something."

Faith smiled slyly.  "He's a male Slayer."

Spike rounded on her.  "I am _not_ a male Slayer!"

"We've known each other a while," Buffy continued.  "We actually all lived together for a year or so before we came to Middle-Earth."

Elrond nodded, seeming to take the information in stride.  When one was thousands of years old, it was hard to shock them, even though the humans had accomplished to do so in a small level during their short conversation.  "And you are from…?"

"Sunnydale, California, The United States of America, Regular Earth," Buffy replied.

Elrond nodded slowly.  "Just a few questions about the information I have received from Celeborn.  You arrived in Middle-Earth through a portal, correct?"

"Yeah," Buffy answered, shuddering as she remembered the feeling of passing through the portal.  "Big burning type of portal."

"You had been on a transport of some kind before the portal opened, correct?" Elrond asked, deep in thought.

"A bus," Spike confirmed.

Gandalf raised his brow again.  "Did the…_bus _come through the portal as well?"

"No," Faith replied.  "Just the people on the bus."

"Everyone on the bus?" Elrond asked.

Faith nodded.  "Yep."

"The portal opened above Lórien and you fell from it?" Gandalf asked.

"We wouldn't know," Buffy said with a shrug.  "We were a little bit unconscious."

Elrond nodded.  "And you believe the portal opened because of the power of the Key."

Buffy shifted uncomfortably.  "In theory."

They sat in silence for a moment, waiting for the next question.  After a little bit, Faith bit on her lip, carefully and hopefully watching the two wise men think.  "Can you help us?"

Elrond looked up at Gandalf.  The old wizard just closed his eyes.  Elrond turned, giving the three humans a sympathetic look.  "I am sorry."

Buffy sighed, head dropping slightly.  "Well.  That's, um…that's expected."

Faith nodded, then shrugged.  "Yeah.  Thanks anyways."

"I truly wish I could help you," Elrond said sincerely, watching the two girls shake off this blow.  "My advice is for you to try and find a purpose here, in this world."

Spike raised an eyebrow and smirked.  "What we're doing, eh?"

Gandalf nodded, beaming at them proudly.  "An admirable effort."

"You are welcome in Rivendell anytime you have need," Elrond said, standing.

Buffy nodded.  "Thanks for everything."

With that, Elrond ducked out of the room.  Gandalf rose a moment later.  Smiling at the group, before following the Elf.

Aragorn sighed, then pushed himself out of his seat.  "I'm sorry."

Faith shrugged.  "It's no big."

"I will leave you to talk things over," Aragorn said quietly, avoiding their gazes.  "If you have need of me, I will be visiting with my mother before retiring to my own rooms."

Spike lazily raised a hand in farewell.  "See you, mate."

As soon as he was gone, Faith was back in her Indian-style position.  Buffy raised her right leg, propping her foot on the edge of the sofa and hugging her knee close.  She sighed.  "Well."

Faith laid her lead back, tossing an arm over her eyes.  "You know, I wonder why I bother to get my hopes up."

"I wouldn't anymore if I was you," Spike replied as he stood up, stretching out.  "We've now been told by four of the wisest people in the world that they have no clue how we got here or how we could get back."

Buffy frowned, leaning her head against her knee.  "I wouldn't mind being here so much if I knew that things were okay.  Back at home, if Angel, Cordelia, Wesley, and everyone else is okay.  If the fight here wasn't just beginning.  If I knew I wasn't going to die before it happened."

Faith hesitated for a moment, then shook Buffy's comment off.  "Aragorn only wants to stay the one night.  I can see it in his eyes."

Spike snorted.  "I don't expect Elrond is taking the news of the betrothal well."

"It's more than that," Faith replied anxiously.  "I think Aragorn's worried.  Worried about us and the state of the North."

Buffy shrugged.  "It is his ancestral home.  His family and friends live up there."

Spike rubbed his stomach.  "Anyone else feeling a bit peckish?"

"Yes," Buffy replied emphatically.  "I'm PMSing bad."

Spike grimaced.  "Thank you very much for the overabundance of information, Slayer."

Faith sighed longingly.  "I never thought I'd long for a box of diaper-y maxis."

"You said it," Buffy replied, shifting uncomfortably.  "This cloth system doesn't work nearly as well."

"Right, then," Spike quipped, turning and making a beeline for the door.  "I'm going to have a look around.  If you don't mind."

Faith turned to Buffy.  They both smiled.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike wandered aimlessly through the gardens of Rivendell.  They were beautiful.  Never in all his years on Earth had he seen anything that could even compare to the wonders that Middle-Earth seemed to hold.  These gardens, especially at that time, at night, alit bit the soft glow from the bright not-quite-full moon and the stars that shone brightly overhead.  The pale light added to its innate etherealness, the night-blooming flowers adding their sweet perfumes to the heady night air.  Spike wandered among the twisting paths, taking in the beauty, thinking of his home world.

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted when he heard a small sigh come from behind him, soft but full of emotion.  He turned to find himself face to face with a pretty she-Elf.  Her eyes were wide, indicating she had just noticed him as well, but beyond that, her face was a perfectly schooled neutral mask.  But that sigh had told him a great many things.  This Elf-woman was desperately in need of some sort of company.  Spike definitely wasn't ideal company, he knew, but better him than no one.

Clearing his throat, he decided to try and make some sort of polite conversation.  "You're, er, Fingalan."

The she-Elf raised cocked her head in surprise, watching him slyly from the corner of her eye.  "And you are Spike."

Spike stepped closer, following her gaze upwards to the heavens above.  "What brings a lady like yourself out by her lonesome at this time of night?"

"Ereb," Fingalan murmured lowly.

(Lonely.)

Spike looked down at her, brow furrowing in concern.  "Ereb an man genediad?"

(Why are you lonely?)

Apparently, the she-Elf had not expected this answer.  Actually, if Spike had to guess from the look she was giving him, she had not expected him to answer at all.  She thought he was a Man from the outside world, with little to no knowledge of the ways of the Elves.  This theory was proven when she asked a moment later, "Pedach Sindarin?"

(You speak Sindarin?)

Spike smiled slyly, not answering the question, though he knew she knew the answer.  "If you're so lonely, why are you out here instead of with others?"

"I am out here with you," she countered.

Spike grinned outright, impressed with the girls wit.  She truly was good at blocking out others concern.  But, unfortunately, this was her first encounter with Spike, he who could get anything out of anyone.  He stepped in front of her so that she would be forced to look at him, then put a hand on her shoulder.  A bold move, but a good one.  "You can tell me anything you want, ducks.  I'm leaving tomorrow morning and most likely won't ever return."

Fingalan sighed, looking very much like a child even though Spike knew she probably had at least a thousand or two years on him.  She looked back up towards the stars, eyes glistening with unshed tears.  "My mother used to tell me as a child that as long as I had the stars, I would never want for a companion.  I take comfort in the stars, more now than I ever did."

"Why are your friends fiery balls of gas and not flesh and blood?" Spike asked softly, gently taking hold of her chin and bringing her gaze back down to him.

"My mother and father sailed West over a thousand years ago," Fingalan explained, turning away.

Spike understood then.  Her family was gone, over the seas in Valinor.  And for some reason this girl had decided to stay.  He watched her walk away, feeling a sort of connection.  Her world was far away.  So was his.

She stopped for a moment, cocking her head in an invitation.  Spike hesitated, confused.  She shook her head, then started to fall backwards.  Spike leapt forward, knowing he'd never make it to her in time to catch her.  Only after she stopped falling in mid-air did he realize she was sitting on some sort of bench that eerily blended with its surroundings.  Gathering the tattered remains of his pride, Spike sat down next to her.  She raised an eyebrow but said nothing about his mistake.  Instead, she continued on.  "Lord Elrond has taken me in as his kin, but it is not the same as blood."

Spike knew that feeling.  He was close to Buffy and her Scoobies, but as close as they were, as much as he loved them, it wasn't the same.  Well, maybe with Dawn, Willow, and Buffy, but that was it.  Well, Faith was really growing on him, she was so strong yet fragile to the point that he felt he needed to take care of her.  And Xander could have been described as a sort of brother that one hated, yet when he was in trouble, one defended with their life.  And for some strange ungodly reason, he found himself needing the approval of Giles, as many strive for the approval of a father.  Maybe they were the same as blood family.  Well, either way, Celeborn, Galadriel, Arwen, and the others definitely weren't as close as family.  Just really good friends.

Fingalan, unaware of his thoughts, continued on, "Arwen has long been to me as a sister, but she has spent these many years in Lórien.  Estel is as close to me as any brother.  The only other companion, but most important, is my husband."

Husband.  Well, that clinched it.  Spike would not be getting laid.  More's the pity, since she was a looker.

"Thoronathion serves Lord Elrond and is a dedicated soldier," Fingalan explained.  "He spends much of his time serving as escort for those who wish to take the paths westward to the Havens."

A career man.  Sort of.  Spike nodded.  "I understand why you might be lonely."

Fingalan smiled up at Spike.  "You are very lucky to have your sisters with you."

Spike blanched.  "Sisters?"

"Are they not?" Fingalan asked in mild surprise.  "You seem closer than friends."

Spike shrugged, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.  "I'm not sure what I am to them."

"Husband?" Fingalan suggested.  Spike's loud snort probably answered that one.  She smirked.  "Lover?"

Spike cringed.  "Once."

"Buffy," Fingalan said knowingly.

"Yeah," Spike murmured, trying to figure out how the hell she knew that.  "It's a very long story, pet, and I doubt you could understand."

The she-Elf shrugged.  "Whatever happened, it is obvious it ended on good terms."

Spike snorted again.  "Not bloody likely."

Fingalan took spike's chin in her own hands, gently forcing him to look at her.  She gazed deep into his eyes, very seriously.  "She has great faith in you, Spike, whatever you might be."

Spike frowned, uncertain.  "You think?"

"I know," she replied, her tone leaving no room for doubt.  "It is in her eyes.  Have you not noticed how she turns to you for support, for guidance?  She looks to you, Spike."

Spike took a moment to absorb this.  Never mind he was having such a deep conversation with a she-Elf he had known for all of an hour.  

"What is Buffy to you?" Fingalan asked.

Spike shrugged.  "I loved her.  I still love her.  It's just…when I was _in_ love with her…I was different.  I…changed…for her, but…my 'change' changed my feelings, too."

She raised an eyebrow.  "Did it?"

"I was still in love with her for years after, but…it seemed different."  Spike sighed, not knowing how to explain such a complex history.  "Like I was in love with an idea of her.  It took me quite awhile to realize that I'd fallen out of love with her.  We'd been living in Lórien for over a year before I realized."

"Do you still care for her?" she asked, her voice still as steady and cool as it was earlier.

"What she did for me is…indescribable," Spike replied softly, still awed by the mere memory of Buffy.  "She believed in me.  She forced me to become a better man.  Helped me survive and work to be the man I am today.  I…I don't know how you would define what I feel for her.  I would do anything for her.  I'd do anything to see her happy.  Do anything to keep her safe."

Fingalan smiled.  "Sounds an awful lot like an older brother type of love to me."

Spike nodded, still confused by the ramifications of all he had admitted to himself in the last ten minutes.

Fingalan chose this moment to make her exit.  She stood, gently patting Spike's head.  "I wish you joy in life, Spike.  May the Valar bless and keep you for all of your days."

"Namárië," Spike muttered, still confused as she walked off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Three hours later, Spike was still sitting on the bench.  Still confused.  He remained deep in thought, trying to figure out what was going on in his life.  That was probably the reason he jumped a mile when someone suddenly sat down next to him.

"Ah, William.  Mind if I join you?"

Spike shuddered, trying to shake the shock he had just been given.  "Gandalf.  Don't do that, mate."

Gandalf looked over at him, eye twinkling in amusement.  He didn't reply, instead, opting to puff on his pipe.

Spike gazed at the pipe in interest.  He had seen Gandalf smoke before, even Aragorn.  But they had always done so from a difference so not to bother Faith and Buffy.  "What are you smoking?"

"Pipe-weed," Gandalf replied, taking a small pouch from his belt.  "Old Toby, to be precise.  Fresh from the Shire.  Finest weed in the Southfarthing."

"Aragorn smokes it, too, eh?" Spike asked.  He watched the smoke roll from the older man's mouth, remembering with longing the feeling of having cigarette smoke fill his lungs.  He ached for it.

Gandalf must have seen the longing in his eyes, for he extended the pouch with an understanding smile.  "Would you like some, Master William?  I have plenty to go around."

Spike shook his head.  "I don't have a pipe."

"I just happen to have a spare that you could use and perhaps keep, if you enjoy," Gandalf said as he reached into his robe.  A moment later he produced a very fine looking pipe, though not as fine as his.

Spike took it, handling it uneasily.  "I'm more of a fag fan, myself."

"I do not recall ever hearing of such a thing," Gandalf mused.

Spike sighed, then reached for the bag.  "Maybe a little, then."

"I am sorry I do not know a way to help you," Gandalf said, watching spike take the pipe-weed and prepare it.

"S'not your fault," Spike replied easily.  "Things just happened."

Gandalf smiled.  "You have a very understanding way, William."

"The girls…they'll always hope for a way back," Spike said, pausing, watching Gandalf sadly.  "I, on the other hand, realized long ago that there was no going back.  We're _here_ and we can only go forward from _here_.  'Sides, I prefer Arda to Earth."

Gandalf chuckled in amusement.  "Do you now?"

"This is a lot closer to the ways I grew up in than the twenty-first century ever could be," Spike admitted as he stuffed the weed in the pipe.  "Horses instead of cars.  Carts instead of buses.  More nature and hard work, a lot less industry.  I'd never admit it to the girls, but I like the old ways.  Much more dignified."

Gandalf raised an eyebrow.  "Indeed?"

Spike shrugged.  "Not saying there aren't some things I don't miss.  Indoor plumbing being right there at the top of the list.  Those little onion flowers following a close second.  But I do like this better.  The world seems…slower here.  Like there's more time."

Gandalf provided the flint for his pipe.  "I myself find that I prefer a slower pace of things than most."

The pipe all lit up and ready to go, Spike took a deep puff.  His nicotine frazzled nerves instantly calmed.  For the first time in years, his craving was subsided.  He sighed in pleasure as the smoke billowed from his lips.  "Not too bloody bad.  What's this called again?"

"Pipe-weed," Gandalf reminded Spike, watching him enjoy himself.  "It is found in the Shire, though the Hobbits sell it to the outside world by the hundreds of barrels."

Spike grinned as he relaxed back on the bench.  "I suddenly like this Shire a lot more than I did."

"It is a good place," Gandalf agreed, his voice holding a note of pride and longing.  "Hobbits are good creatures."

Gandalf then sat up straighter, handing Spike the bag of pipe-weed.  "Keep the this and the pipe, Master William.  It is the least I can do for you after having failed you this afternoon."

"Listen, Gandalf," Spike started, intending to refuse the gift, then deciding no to upon second thought.  But he still decided to allay the wizard's fears.  "Don't worry about trying to find us a way back.  The girls are adjusting.  The others back in Lórien…they're all making a place for themselves here.  The truth is that there is not portal to be found that leads back to Earth.  They've got to learn to accept that."

Gandalf smiled warmly down on Spike as he rose to his feet.  "I wish you luck in your life to come, William."

"You, too," Spike said, getting up and offering the wizard his hand.  "You take care of that Shire.  Keep making sure that it remains safe."

"Marvelous idea," Gandalf replied, taking Spike's hand in his own.  "I once had a friend who lived in the Shire.  Wonder how the old rascal's been, or if he is still alive, the trouble he got himself in."

Spike froze, hand still clasped in Gandalf's.  "You haven't been to check up on him?"

Gandalf shook his head.  "Oh, no, we fell out of touch years ago."

Spike watched him for a moment, then shrugged.  "You should watch that Shire.  It has things worth protecting."

Gandalf nodded.  "You are right, you know.  I do not know why I have not thought of it sooner."

Spike frowned, watching the wizard walk off.  "Take care, Gandalf."

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A/N:  Okay, Fingalan.  My first OCF in this story.  She's actually a character in the movies, not Fingalan, but the woman I make her out of.  I just have no clue who the Elf in the movie is.  She stands next to Arwen in the Fellowship of the Ring Extended Edition.  She's dressed in an orange-ish dress.  I dunno who she's supposed to be, but in my world, she's Fingalan, a sorta maid and wife of a guard of Rivendell.  She's fun, I think you'll like her.

Please, give me a Christmas gift and REVIEW!!!


	17. The Person Underneath

A/N:  Here it is guys!

And a special note to divad relffehs:  Wow.  You have some nerve.  You actually ordered me to change my entire story to suit your tastes.  Well, I'm telling you now, there's no way I'll ever write a Buffy/Spike story.  I think the pairing is unnatural (sorry to all the innocent B/S shippers out there, I mean no disrespect, but no little shit is ever going to tell me what my taste should be and order me to do something).  Aside from that, reviews are meant to be constructive, to help authors better themselves, but telling me you don't like a pairing and then ordering me to change it is not what a review is for.  If you don't like reading something that isn't B/S, then don't ever read anything written by me ever again.  Actually, it would be really nice if you just don't read my stories at all.  You are also very lucky I'm managing to hold my temper in check.

A few more replies to the actual legitimate reviews:  A dilemma.  I have many reviews from people who are, like, "start the plot!"  I have still others commending me for taking my time to give the story some legitimate basis before plunging in.  The latter is the road I will take, though conflict starts to emerge in the next chapter (though a minor conflict, not major).  Like I've said before, Nuvalmet Lain! is, in fact, a rather long prologue, the first story in the Echor Uin Cuil Series.  There is a minor conflict starting next chapter, but my major conflict, the conflict of the series, doesn't crop up until chapter two of the second part in the series.  Frodo, the Ring, all of that doesn't really start until the third part (though you will see a general shift in that direction towards the end of this part and in part two).  My conflict occurs in conjunction with that, true, and is resolved before "the Black Gate Opens", but I will not rush myself.  I have a lot of subplot I want to go through, a lot of character development, a lot of groundwork to lay (though I've laid most of it).  I'm sorry if this disappoints.  But I assure you, it's worth it.  Just stick with me until the next chapter.  There is a plot, I swear.  I'm just taking my sweet time getting there.  (C'mon guys, this means more story!  Yay!)

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--Gandalf's POV--

They stole away at dawn.  I watched them from a high window overlooking Rivendell and the surrounding valley.  Aragorn led them, proud and tall on his trusted steed.  The woman called Buffy Summers yawned as she drowsily followed Aragorn.  Faith's horse trodded along behind, carrying her mistress along, even as the girl looked back over her shoulder, the slight amount of fear she felt at riding to the unknown impossible to hide.  William took up the rear, looking as indifferent as ever.

They all seem very uncomplicated and complacent on the surface.

I know otherwise.

William follows the girls, looking to all the world as a loyal servant and keeper to them.  But he is a leader.  Or he will be.  I know it.  His very voice ripples with his power, his command.  His stance is strong, true, and imposing, his eyes compassionate and wise.  Someday soon he will lead, and men everywhere will follow him, even to death if he asked it of them.

Faith's fear is mainly of herself, a lack of confidence that she can rise above her past mistakes and make the right choices.  Yet, I know she will.  In her heart she yearns to follow the light.  She will be tested, yes, she will be tried.  Her resolve may weaken, she will be tempted.  But I see her standing through the test of time.  She will be a goddess among vermin.

Buffy's drowsiness is part of her simple façade, a façade that is one of the most interesting and complex I have ever seen.  Her years of torment hang heavy upon her and the coming hardness smothers her spirit.  She finds it hard to cope, so she creates the illusion of simplicity around her.  She will prove to the world otherwise.  Her mind is sharp, her will set.  She will be a wall of steel against the Shadow.

They continue on, as small as insects against the vast terrain.  Behind me, the air stirred, the only indication that I was no longer alone.  "What do you think?"

I turned to Elrond, serious from my deep thoughts.  "They seem to be genuine.  Aragorn has great faith in them."

Elrond nodded, his expression as cool as I've always known it to be.  "As do Arwen, Celeborn, and Galadriel."

"There are still yet others that remain in Caras Galadhon?"  I asked, curious about any kin of the strangers I had just met.  What would they be like, I wonder.  As complicated as their companions, I have no doubt.

"Four," Elrond confirmed, turning his attention to a table nearby which I noticed was laden with a selection of wines.  "Buffy Summer's younger sister, Dawn Summers, who is the Key made flesh."

The Key.  In all the universes and worlds that exist separate from our own, there is only one Key.  Over the countless ages, before even time had formed, the Key had traveled to every world.  Yet it was always energy.  Even here, in Middle-Earth, it had been hidden for a time, trusted by the Valar to the Istari.  We had guarded it for a while, long ago.  It was because of the Key that the Maiar first came to Middle-Earth…well, it was one of thousands of reasons.  We had it for a short time compared to our life-spans, only one or two centuries, until Sauron learned of its existence.  Not willing to risk the Key falling into the hands of Sauron, the Valar sent the Key away, to something called 'monks' in another time.  I do not know, though I greatly wish to, how the Key could go from the energy I knew to a little girl.  "I did not know that the Key could be forged into a soul.  How very interesting."

"I have heard much about this Dawn from Arwen," Elrond continued, pouring himself a small glass of one of the wines.  "It seems the child holds the favor of Haldir.  He has even been known to claim her as a younger sister."

I smiled widely at this, feeling the warmth of amusement traveling over my body.  "A mere girl-child broke Haldir's icy façade?  That _is_ interesting."

"Another of the four is Willow Rosenberg," Elrond continued, a small smile tugging at the corners of his own mouth.  He sat his glass of wine aside, pouring a second glass from a bottle of Winyard.  "She has come under the guidance of the Lady of the Wood.  She is a witch, a very powerful one according to Galadriel."

"A witch?" I repeated, very interested.  A witch signified many things, least of all that the girl had an ability with magic.  All higher beings could call upon great power, as could almost all Elves (though scant few ever developed their power, something I consider a great waste), but it was unheard of for a regular Mortal being so like the race of Men to have any ability.  And for one to be powerful in the eyes of Galadriel, which meant she was extremely powerful indeed, raised questions.  "How very interesting."

"The Key, of course, wields magic as well," Elrond said, not surprising me since the Key had been pure magic when I last saw it.  "Galadriel has been teaching them the ways of Elven magic.  She seems to think Dawn could be a competent Healer."

Elrond stopped for a moment, taking a long sip from his glass.  A moment later, he continued.  "Willow has been described by Arwen as a sponge.  She needs knowledge.  Much like the third in their party, an older man by the name of Rupert Giles.  He is a scholar, by all accounts, very wise in the ways of the world.  He also has a vast knowledge of things beyond the natural world.  Celeborn very much enjoys talking with him and I know that they are most likely spending their time exchanging wisdom."

This Willow sounded very interesting to me, but this Rupert was even more so.  A Man so knowledgeable?  I knew then and there that I would have to have a chat with this Rupert Giles.  "And the fourth?"

"A boy with no more power than any other mortal boy," Elrond explained with a wave, handing me the glass of Winyard.  "But I have received reports that he is a competent fighter and has been learning the Elven ways of warfare.  I'm told if he is able to obtain some mastery with the blade, as he is very close to doing, that Celeborn will assign him to be a warden of Lórien under the command of Haldir."

If anything I had heard was shocking, this was the thing that raised my eyebrows.  An Elven warrior was unsurpassed by all.  Even Aragorn, raised in the Eldar's company, was sometimes hard pressed to keep up to their standards.  A mortal boy with no gifts should have found it impossible to even be considered a fighter by the Eldar.  But to be allowed to be a warden of Lórien?  Remarkable.  "A high honor for a _normal_ boy."

Elrond blinked, looking up at me as he took a small sip from his glass.  "None of these children are normal Gandalf."

"No, indeed, they are not," I agreed, setting my glass down untouched, as I always did.  "Have they been educated in our ways?"

Elrond nodded, not commenting on my refusal of drink.  "Educated in the ways of Lórien, for none have passed their borders until now.  Arwen has overseen much of their studies and is still helping them to adapt.  Apparently, their world was very different from ours."

"That is not surprising," I said with a sigh.  I looked out the window, though it was by then impossible for me to see the Ranger and the three strangers riding off.  "Well, I say they merit a close eye.  They are here for a reason, Elrond.  They could not have traveled here otherwise."

And it is true.  I do not believe in mere chance.  The Key finding the exact place to shed her blood to open a portal here at the moment before her and her friends' deaths was truly too much to comprehend.  It did not fit.

Elrond, apparently agreed with me as he stepped up to stand next to me, nodding slightly.  "I myself try to think what reason there could be, but even as the Shadow in the East stirs, I know that they will meet the doom of Men long before it takes shape.  I do not know why we would be sent seven warriors of light for any other reason than that of Mordor."

I sighed again.  The situation was one I had not foreseen, nay, not even dreamed of.  "Only time will tell, my friend.  I, on the other hand, must be off as well."

Elrond turned to stare at me in surprise.  "So soon?  I thought you might remain for a time in good company.  My sons have been eager to see you again and they will return soon for a short visit before riding eastward."

"I fear I have neglected many friends over the years," I replied, feeling a bit guilty since it had been many years since I came for an extended visit to Imladris.  "I will to the Shire."

"The Shire?" Elrond repeated in disbelief.  "I thought you had put that part of Middle-Earth into your past."

"I thought so, as well," I confessed, remembering my old Hobbit friend I had loved so dearly.  "But I have recently been reminded of the land's great worth."

"So you will visit the Hobbit Baggins?" Elrond asked with mild interest.

"Yes," I replied.  It had been many years since I had seen the old rascal.  I wondered what he might have been up to.  Then, for the first time in many more years, I thought on that old ring of Bilbo's.  Hmm.  "I wonder…"

"Yes?" Elrond said, turning to me.

Did I say that aloud?  I shook my head, waving it off.  "Never mind.  Just my old memory."

Elrond bowed.  "Be safe, my friend."

I smiled to him.  "And to you."

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A/N:  Please, please, please review!  

Oh, and be sure to be on my ass about the next chapter.  It's a big one for the plot, but I'll never sit down and make it perfect unless I'm hounded.  Please, hound me.  I'm actually asking for you to.  It will make me do more work.


	18. Identical Nightmares

A/N:  So, be honest…who thought this fic was abandoned?  Huh?  I can't hear you…So anyways, finals are next week, then it'll be one lazy summer of typing.  Well, and work, but I'm part-time and they can't work me too much (you know, or they'd be forced to give me benefits like insurance and a nice vacation time).  This is the goal…to finish NL! And get well on my way into the second part of the series before school starts back up.  This goal WILL be met.  I'm actually hoping to get to Part Three of the series before school starts back, but I don't want to push my luck.

Here it is, after a way inexcusable absence…

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Dawn Summers, formerly of 1630 Revello Drive, leaned back against the soft branches cradling her tall form.  She sighed, gazing longingly over the tops of other trees.  The grand horizon was painted all shades of red, pink, yellow, and orange as the sun began to dip downwards in the sky.  She had been in the tree for what seemed like an eternity, watching the sun travel in a long arch through the blue heavens above.

The horizon was beautiful.  Past the seemingly endless forest, one could make out the far-off tips of the Misty Mountains looming in the distance.  Past them, Dawn knew, lay the plains and hills of Arnor, even though she had never seen them.  Somewhere out there, Dawn knew, the world went on, very different from the forest-world she was living in.  Somewhere out there, a little Hobbit held the evil of the world in his pocket.  Somewhere out there, a man who would be king trekked through the wilderness.  Somewhere out there, two people closer to her than most friends could possibly be followed him.  Somewhere out there, her sister fought on.

"Dawn?!"

Dawn sighed.  She had been in her hiding spot for hours.  She had told Arwen that she was going somewhere to think, but Willow and Xander apparently had problems with this explanation of her whereabouts.  They had already passed through three times, but they hadn't found her.  Dawn had learned too much from Haldir and Aragorn about stealth, too much from Galadriel and Willow about cloaking magics.  She wouldn't be found unless she wanted to, even if Xander used the sharp tracking skills he was learning from Haldir and his stupid brothers.

"Dawn?" Willow shouted again.  Dawn glanced towards the earth and watched as the pair of humans pushed their way into the clearing atop the hill of Cerin Amroth.  Willow sighed, untangling the long sleeves of her lacy lavender dress so her arms could cross, her eyes flashing with worry.  "Dawn, where are you?"

"Dawn, come on!" Xander called out into the clearing, looking up for a sign of the youngest Summers.  He pushed his lengthening hair out of his eye and behind his ears.  "Talk to us!"

"Please?" Willow added in a small voice, almost pathetically.

Dawn stared down at her friends.  They were the same people she had known when she had first come to Sunnydale, but they were so different.  There had been a time when Willow's hair had fallen to her shoulders, maybe a little past them, but Dawn had never seen the witch with her hair so long.  It certainly suited her.  It fell like a bronze river a foot down her back.  No longer the striking red Dawn had been shocked to learn came from a bottle, her hair was a bit more on the brown side, though most would still describe it as red.  She had gained a little weight (which in Dawn's opinion was a good thing), just enough to give her a healthier, stronger glow.  Her eyes seemed deeper, more learned, which reflected the lessons she had been so vigilant with.  Willow was more competent a witch now then Dawn had ever known her to be.  Even her most powerful spells performed on Earth would be mere parlor tricks here.  But it wasn't just the magical sessions.  She had learned the bow from Haldir.  She had been taught how to track by the Elf's stupid brothers, Rúmil and Orophin.  She carried the weight of the dark history they had learned from Arwen.  Yes, the Willow that existed here was very different than the Willow that had lived in Sunnydale.  But her heart was still the same.

Xander was also very different physically.  His hair, which he had tried to manage in the beginning, had grown down to his chin.  It was still the color she had known, brownish-black, and had grown mostly straight, save for the slight curling of the ends.  He was still the goofy, loving, older brother type that Dawn had always known him to be in Sunnydale.  But he was also something else…completely confident.  Strong.  Knowing.  He had taken to the Elven bow like a fish to water.  Even with his single eye, his aim was as perfect as it could be for one not of the Eldar and then some.  He had shadowed Haldir and, while he was in Lórien, Aragorn.  He had learned much about tracking, about warfare.  And he had taught the wardens of Lórien as well.  Breaking out Soldier Guy from that Halloween so long ago, Xander had been able to teach them a bit about modern warfare and tactics.  Just a few months after Buffy, Spike, and Faith had left, Xander had been given the highest honor Celeborn had to give: he was a marchwarden of Lórien.  He patrolled the borders of the forest, fought side by side with the Elven warriors.  And, from all accounts, held his own against the Orcs that dared to test the wood's defense.  But with all the changes, Xand Man was still there.

Dawn knew she had changed.  She had seen her reflection in the cool waters of Lórien far too often.  She was paler than she had been in Sunnydale, something she hadn't believed possible.  Her hair was pretty long, too, a few inches longer than it had been when she was young, which was saying a lot.  She knew her personality had changed, too, but she wasn't sure how.  While still not one to hide her feelings, she wasn't one to make a huge scene anymore.  Well, not much, anyways.  She still got upset and still appreciated good thinking time, but she (hopefully) didn't sulk as much.

Maybe to prove to herself that she wasn't a whiner anymore or maybe because of the looks of sheer desperation and worry on Xander and Willow's faces, Dawn dropped the magical wards she had placed to mask her location.  If Willow sensed her at all before she fell to the ground from the tree, she showed no sign of it.  In fact, she yelped when Dawn, all flapping ice blue ruffles, plopped on her feet in front of her.  Dawn nodded at her two shocked, but relieved looking friends.  "I'm here."

"Finally," Xander muttered, glaring at her with his good eye.  He crossed his arms in front of his chest and gave her his best older brother look.  "Why were you hiding?"

Dawn shrugged, not wanting to play this little game with her friends.  "I was just thinking."

Willow, recovered from her shock, gave her a hard, worried look.  When Dawn looked down at the ground, the elder witch moved to the girl's side and placed a tentative hand on her shoulder.  "Man na raeg?"

(What is wrong?)

Dawn sighed.  She was silent for several moments, slowly raising her gaze to look out from the crest of their beloved hilltop into the lush green forest that surrounded the trio.  Finally she turned back to the two humans.  "It's been a year.  A year today."

Xander nodded slowly, solemnly, as if he expected this answer.  "We know."

Dawn shrugged Willow's supportive hand off, growling in frustration as she slowly started to pace.  "Then why aren't they back?!"

Willow sighed, taking a few steps back from Dawn.  She let herself drop to the ground, sitting down in the soft elanor and niphredil.  "Last word we got, they were somewhere north near Nenuial."

"They can't just come back at anytime," Xander reasoned with the still-young Dawn, who had only recently turned nineteen (as far as they could tell…Giles had tried to estimate their birthdates, which had proven to be much more difficult than anyone had imagined).  "They're doing what they were meant to do."

"Yeah, well, what about us?" Dawn replied, agitated.  "Were we meant to stay here, hiding out among the trees?"

Xander half-smiled, sitting down next to Willow and watching as Dawn quickly paced back and forth.  She suddenly stopped in mid-stride and turned to him, looking for an answer, so he shrugged.  "I doubt it," he replied slowly.  "But do you feel like you should be up North scrounging around with a bunch of Rangers?"

She stared at him for a long moment, frozen in place.  Finally she sighed and flopped down across from both of them, laying back with her legs propped up, letting her hair splay out around her head and her dress tangle around her.  She sighed a second time as she relaxed on the soft ground.  "No.  I stayed because I'm scared."

Willow frowned watching her closely for several moments before pushing herself on her hands and knees and crawling towards the girl.  Once the two were side by side, Willow let her hands and knees drop her down to lay just to Dawn's left on her stomach, legs crossed and swinging carelessly through the air.  Dawn turned her head and Willow met her eyes easily with her own concerned eyes.  "Scared?" she repeated slowly.

Dawn nodded.  "Scared of here," she elaborated quietly.  "Of living my life here."

Xander sighed and scooted around so that he was sitting on Dawn's left side.  He looked down at the younger girl, looking somewhere between concerned and frustrated.  "You hate Middle-Earth so much?"

"I don't hate it," Dawn replied with a roll of her eyes.  "It doesn't really bother me to be here.  I mean, my family is Buffy and you guys, so as long as you are here, I'm fine.  Though Buffy's not really here--"

"Dawn--" Xander started but was cut off with a look from the girl.

"I know, I know, I get it," she said quickly, but monotonously as if she had said it a million times before.  "She has to do her thing.  Just wish her thing could have been learning to be a warden like Xander.  I also wish Angel, Cordelia, and some of the others were here."

Willow snorted loudly, drawing the pair's attention.  She was still listening attentively, though her gaze was distracted by playing with a piece of Dawn's spread-out hair.  "I doubt Cordelia Chase could survive life without a hair dryer."

Xander smiled at the mention of old Queen C.  Dawn knew he missed her in some sad, sick way.  He also worried about her.  She had been in a death-like coma the last time he had seen her, during the group's stay in Los Angeles.  He had let it slip before that he was uncomfortable knowing that he would live and die, never finding out if she got better.  

Xander's smile slowly faded.  After a moment of silence, he turned to Dawn, expression a bit sadder.  "You still haven't told us what you're afraid of."

Dawn frowned, sure she had explained well enough for them.  "Huh?"

"Those are worries, not fears," Willow said, not looking up from the now slightly braided strand of hair.  She dropped it, turning to Dawn and meeting her gaze head on.  "Dawn, what are you _really _scared of?"

Dawn looked away, up to the sky.  It was darkening, the sun now set, though still very much lit by the stars that were slowly emerging.  She loved the nights in Lórien.  The sky was always so vibrant and alive.  The stars were so easy to see.  Back in Sunnydale, it had been a rare thing to see starlight poke through the blinding artificial lights that had blinded the town after dark.  Even then, the stars that one thought they saw usually turned out to be an airplane…or blimp.  And these stars looked so much like the stars she remembered from her youth when she had been camping or whatnot.  The formations were vaguely similar.  The sky was more alive, though.

Dawn suddenly choked.  She didn't know where the sudden bout of homesickness came from.  Maybe it was the memories of her mother, pointing out constellations, telling her stories about stars when she had been so very young.  Maybe it was something else.  But in that moment she felt very tired.

Weakly, Dawn pushed herself up into a sitting position.  Her arms went around her knees and she hugged them close, as if they would protect her from her worst nightmares.  She was nineteen, yes, but she suddenly felt like a very small nine-year-old.  She drew a rattled breath, trying to calm herself so that she could answer Willow and Xander's questions.  The pair sat up beside her, Willow wrapping a supportive arm around her.  After a few calming moments, she finally felt ready to talk.  "I…I'm scared th-that I'll, uh…that, um, I'll never find my spot.  That I won't get a purpose.  I'm just Dawn Summers, on any world, on every world.  The Key, sometimes.  Yeah, I'm all with the witch now, but that seems to be more of your thing."

"Dawn, you're an amazing witch," Willow argued, letting the hand on the girl's shoulders fall a bit to rub light, soothing circles along her back.  "You have power that I can only dream of."

"Yeah," Dawn spat out harshly.  "Twice your power, a tenth of your control.  What does that get me?"

Willow shook her head.  "You're still learning."

"But what about after?" Dawn asked, a note of pleading in her voice.   She released her grip on her knees and let her legs fall into a more relaxed, but still tense Indian-style position.  She sighed as her hands fell to play with the hem of her skirt.  "I don't want to hide away from the world all my life.  I don't want to live my life in the trees.  I don't even think I could even if I wanted to.  The Elves are all sailing West, Lórien is shrinking daily."

"Dawn, we'll be dead, buried, and dust long before Lothlórien passes on," Xander reasoned with her, though not really sure if his words could be classified as comfort.

"We can stay here…exist like we are forever," Dawn said, her voice taking on a more logical edge.  "Just all of us here, never changing, never moving on to anything more.  I'm scared my life has peaked at nineteen.  I don't want that.  I want to get married, have kids, do something that'll have some sort of impact."

"Do you really want to leave so badly?" Xander asked slowly, looking very serious, very thoughtful.  He hesitated a few moments, especially when he received no answer.  Finally he sighed, long and heavy, as if he dreaded what he was about to say.  "If you really feel that way, I'll try and set something up.  We could maybe go North to the Dúnedain, or maybe South to Gondor.  I could find work as a guard or something and you could pose as my little sister."

Dawn stared at the slightly older man, shocked at the offer he had just made.  Not even Buffy, going off into the wilderness, had been able to convince him to leave.  He had the most promising future among the Eldar, albeit still a bit dismal.  He had worked hard to be appointed a warden, something that he was very proud of.  And he was offering to give it up.

Dawn gave Xander a small smile, reaching out with her hand to take his.  "Xander, while I'm touched that you'd be willing to leave Lórien for me, I don't want to.  That's my real problem.  I know that there is no changing here, no chance to better myself, a mortal, among the immortals.  Yet I feel compelled to be here.  As if here was where I am supposed to be.  And of that's true…I just feel like I've lived my entire life and I'm only nineteen."

Xander looked down at her small hand in his then back up to her eyes, his expression full of understanding.  "And that is what scares you."

Dawn dropped his hand, looking down almost in shame.  "I know it's stupid--"

"No it's not," Willow assured the younger girl, bringing her arm back around the girl's shoulders and giving her a slight one-armed hug.  "I feel the need to be here, too.  To be among the Elves, to garner what I can from them."

"I like it here," Xander admitted freely.  "Don't get me wrong, I'd rather be in a Pizza Hut somewhere, but…I dunno.  Maybe in another life I was an Elf or something, or maybe it's just the Tolkien fan in me, but I feel almost as much at home as I can here."

"And I agree with you," Willow continued, smiling at Dawn.  "We can never do anything more than exist in this culture.  We can't go West.  We can't add to anything, like having jobs or something.  We can't find significant others because of the whole immortal/mortal thing--"

Xander snorted, cutting his best friend off.  He shook his head, smiling wryly.  "Before that became an issue, we'd have to find someone that would put up with us, which I don't see happening."

Dawn nodded in agreement.  "You haven't even come out to Galadriel, Willow."

"I don't think people here even know what lesbian means," Willow pointed out defensively, dropping the arm slung around the younger witch's shoulders.

Xander chuckled.  "Yeah, gay is just merry."

Willow sighed, looking around the green hill, then back to the pair of knuckleheads at her side.  "We can't do anything but continue on.  Learn.  Maybe fight in the defense of Lórien, but that's it really."

Xander frowned, his light-heartedness turning inhumanly quickly into depression.  "Things will be roughly the same as they are now until we die."

Dawn gave him a dark smile.  "Sobering, huh?"

"I'll say," Xander grumbled.

"We just need to take it day by day," Willow said wisely.  "See where life leads us."

Dawn chuckled darkly.  "I kinda almost regret the fact that we won't make it to see what goes on with the Ring.  It'll be a great battle."

Willow pushed the teenager away, giving her a shocked look.  "Bite your tongue!  It's the only thing that comforts me.  We won't have to see those dark days, days that'll be darker than the ones we had with the First, mind.  It'll be hell on earth"

"Hell on Middle-Earth," Xander corrected immediately.

Dawn shrugged nonchalantly.  "But that's what we're best at.  I have to admit, I almost prefer a good fight to this haze."

Xander rolled his eye.  "C'mon, Dawn, you don't really mean that."

"Sure, I do," she replied easily.  "We're talking the ultimate war against good and evil, a war we know will turn out."

Willow quirked an eyebrow.  "Can you be so sure?"

Dawn shrugged again.  "Yeah…of course…I think…sorta…maybe…not really…no…"

Xander gave her a patronizing look.  "Do you understand what will happen if Sauron regains the Ring?"

"Yeah…" Dawn replied slowly.

Xander smirked, but continued.  "Do you understand what the Ring's continued existence will mean?"

Dawn nodded once.  "Yeah…"

Xander's smirk grew a bit.  "Do you understand what has to happen for the Ring to be destroyed?"

"Uh huh…" Dawn replied meekly.

"Do you get my point?" Xander asked slowly.

"Ring War not good," Dawn replied immediately.

Xander nodded, satisfied.  "Exactly."

Willow rolled her eyes at the pair's antics.  Dawn laughed at the redhead's reaction, then turned to Xander.  "So maybe death in a few years isn't such a bad idea."

Xander nodded wisely.  "You learn well, young grasshopper.  Better death than living hell."

Willow looked up suddenly.  "Speaking of hell, how are our favorite Slayers, former vamps, and sorta kings doing?"

"They're still at that camp North of Bree," Dawn replied immediately.  "The one of that group of Rangers.  More like a small nomadic city than a camp."

"The all-male one?" Xander asked as he pushed himself to his feet.

Dawn nodded that's the one.  "That's the one."

Willow shook her head.  "Can you imagine Faith in a camp filled with Men?"

Xander smirked, stretching his arms out over his head.  "The word 'orgy' was invented for a reason."

Willow turned towards him sharply, mouth dropping open.  "Xander!"

"You know it's true," Xander replied easily.

Willow shook her head, eyes wide in shock.  "I can't believe you--"

She suddenly cut off, turning even more sharply away from the pair, eyes going straight for the path that led to the northern borders of the land.  She shivered slightly as she stared unblinkingly off into the oblivion of the trees.

Dawn pushed herself up onto her knees, watching the witch in concern.  "Willow?"

"Someone's coming," She replied lowly.

Xander immediately drew his bow and took an arrow from the quiver strapped to his back.  His good eye scanned the treelike, looking for any sign of this person Willow was sensing.  "Someone we know?"

"No," Willow replied, slowly climbing to her feet even though her gaze never broke, her eyes never blinked.  "Strangers."

"How many?" Dawn asked, reaching out slightly with her own power.  It took her less than a second to find it.  "There are four lives moving north of here…two Elves and two horses?"

"That's what I got," Willow replied with a nod, continuing to stare unblinkingly toward the threat.  After several moments, she finally broke her gaze, turning instantly to Xander.  "They're not happy campers either.  A lot of anger is with them.  A lot of fear and doubt."

"Orcs?" Xander suggested, sliding the arrow into the niche in the bow.

Willow shook her head as she glanced again towards the Northern Path.  "No, they're definitely Elves, but…not any of the Galadhrim."

"Could be rogues," Dawn replied quietly, looking from her friend to the trees then back again.

Willow bit her lip, then started to slowly back away.  "They're heading this way."

"Time for me to earn that title of warden," Xander said as he took a step forward.

Dawn stopped him with a hand to his chest.  "I think you'll need backup."

"Shh!" Willow hissed softly as she grabbed both of her friends by the arm.  She silently hauled them to the nearest tree, then nudged Dawn upwards.  Dawn didn't have to be told twice.  She immediately started to climb, relief hitting her when she heard the very subtle signs of Willow and Xander as they followed.  She settled herself on a limb close to the ground, but hidden well from view.  Willow and Xander slid next to her silently, barely even breathing.  With a few muttered words both Dawn and Willow erected their wards.

Willow pointed, leaning in towards the ground.  "Right…there…"

As soon as the words had left her mouth, two Elves pushed into the clearing, both leading black stallions behind them.  They were not like any Elves the trio had ever met.  They were dressed differently, mostly in hues of browns and reds, clothes that were obviously made for battle.  They were armed heavily, each carrying his own bow, sword and several knives.

Dawn inhaled sharply as she looked down upon them.  They both seemed young, which meant they were most likely a few thousand years old, and both had the cool countenance of a warrior hanging about them.  The one in fronts' eyes were cold, challenging, moving quickly as they searched the new surroundings.  He had long black hair that was pulled back out of his face, though not in the manner worn by the males of the Galadhrim.  His eyes were large, perfectly framed by long lashes and a curving brow.  They were stormy grey, a cool color that matched the emotions that were displayed on his face.  It was a handsome face, well chiseled, with a perfectly curved nose, high cheekbones and smooth skin.

The one in front turned to the one behind and nodded.  The second of the pair ventured further on into the clearing.  As soon as he came into clear view, Dawn almost fell out of the tree.  They were exactly alike, down to the last strand of hair.  Though, Dawn noted, the second did not have quite as hard eyes as the first.

The first gave the second a dark look.  "Nam an ennas."

(We are almost there.)

The second nodded then looked up towards the sky.  "I caras natha lostol ir telim egor tegim i tirith dad am men."

(The city will be asleep when we arrive.  We must remember to be quiet upon arrival or we might bring the guard down upon us.)

The colder Elf looked around, eyes flashing.  "Istam ae Aragorn Arathornion na sí?"

(Do we know if Aragorn, son of Arathorn, will be here?)

The second Elf continued his study of the night sky, but answered.  "Ho al-na ned i rhaw, sui im laston, ind ha be."

(He is not in the Wild, so I have heard, so it is likely.)

The colder one gave the other a dark smile.  "Degithon e ir tíron ho."

(I'll kill him when I see him.)

Dawn looked back.  Xander and Willow had the same shocked and alarmed expressions as she did.  She turned back to the scene below her, watching as the one she had thought appeared nicer smile just as evilly as the cold one.  "Minui ennas gâr i claur.)

(First one there will have the honor.)

The first Elf nodded his agreement, then looked on southwards.  "Arwen Undómiel na sí, ha na ist."

(Arwen Evenstar is here for sure.)

"Ingch ha natha norn genedia he?" the second asked with a frown.

(Do you think it will be hard to convince her?)

The colder Elf's expression also grew dark.  "He tirn men'mín ae garm nedi he dad a caro he."

(She will see our way if we have to tie her down and make her.)

The second sighed, then sat himself down in a bed of soft elanor.  "Ammen hodam sí an anann.  Ha natha norn mudas ir tolm i caras."

(Let us rest here for a while.  It will be hard work once we reach the city.)

The pair then went on to prepare for what looked to be a brief rest.  Dawn scooted back on the tree limb and turned to her friends.  She sighed softly, even though she knew the wards would mask even a mighty shout.  "So…"

"Not happy Elves," Willow whispered, frazzled.

Dawn bit her lip, looking from her friends to the two strangers then back again.  "What should we do?"

Xander shot her a foreboding look.  "They're here for a reason."

"To kill Aragorn!" Willow hissed, beginning to look a little panicked.

"Aragorn isn't here," Xander pointed out calmly.

"But Arwen is!" Dawn replied, pointing emphatically towards the city.  "You heard what they said."

Xander nodded slowly, seeming to come to some sort of a decision.  "Dawn.  Go get help."

Dawn nodded in agreement and started to slide of the branch.  Suddenly, before she had gone even half a foot, she hesitated, gazing back worriedly at Willow and Xander.  "What about you?"

"We'll keep an eye on them," Xander reassured her.

Dawn did not like that answer at all.  "If you follow them to the wood, you could easily lose them.  They're Elves, you're not."

"Then we won't let them leave the hill," Willow replied easily.

She liked that reply even less.  "Don't do anything stupid."

"We won't have to if you go get Haldir," Xander insisted, gesturing for her to leave.  "Now go!"

With one last look back towards her friends, Dawn slipped off the branch to a lower one and then began to run along the branches of the trees, toward the city of Caras Galadhon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She ran as fast as her legs would carry.  Later she would swear there were times that her feet did not meet the ground, but instead kept on propelling her through the forest as if they had a will of their own.  She pushed her way through the slight undergrowth, opting to take her secret shortcuts off the normally traveled paths.  Though she tried to hold it tightly to ease her run, her dress continually caught on branches and bushes, snagging and ripping into shreds.  It was long past ruined by the time the soft glow of the city came in her sight, but she didn't care.  She ran straight for the first person she saw.  "Arwen!"

Arwen had apparently been wandering on the paths just outside the city alone, gathering herbs if the small batch of athelas in her hands was any indication.  She immediately looked up at the sound of her name.  She looked as perfect as ever, something which Dawn didn't need a mirror to know that she did not meet.  Arwen's eyes widened in shock as she caught sight of the disheveled girl.  She dropped the herbs instantly and started to run towards Dawn.  "Meluiell!" she called out to her as she finally reached Dawn's side.  "Man na raeg?"

(What is wrong?)

"S…stra-angers!" Dawn panted, completely out of breath from her long, hard run.  She stooped over, arms on her knees.  "Near th-the northern borders!"

Arwen glanced up towards the north, then back down at the teen breathing heavily next to her.  "Orcs?"

"Elves," Dawn said shaking her head.  "They were heavily armed.  Said something about killing Aragorn and forcing you to do something."

Arwen frowned, glancing from Dawn to the black, foreboding treelike.  "You are sure they were Elves?"

"Positive," she replied, her voice strong and unwavering now that she had caught her breath.  "Not Elves like here though.  Darker hair like yours."

At this, Arwen gave Dawn a sharp look.  "What did they look like?"

"Uh…each other?" Dawn suggested, not sure of how to describe the Elves she had studied so closely.  "They were nearly identical."

Arwen instantly relaxed, a large grin spreading across her face.  "My brothers!"

Dawn scowled in confusion.  "The L brothers?"

"Elladan and Elrohir," Arwen corrected, now a bit giddy after the adrenaline rush from the danger caught up with her relaxed body.

Dawn nodded slowly, cocking her head as her own body slowly unwound.  "Oh.  Neat!  Been wanting to meet them for a while.  How come you never said they were twins?"

Arwen gave the young witch a sly smile.  "You never asked."

Dawn snorted.  "Well, that's logical enou…SHIT!"

Arwen's attention sharpened as Dawn tensed back up, glancing around frantically.  "What?"

"Oh, crap!" Dawn muttered, panicked, breathing in and out as her mind wrapped around the knowledge that the "Rogue Elves" were Arwen's brothers.  "Oh, no!"

"Meluiell?" Arwen said, hands coming up to rest on Dawn's shoulders in an attempt to bring her back to reality.

Dawn's own hands snapped up to grasp Arwen's upper arms as the girl met the she-Elf's eyes.  "Willow and Xander."

Arwen frowned but did not pause to think in light of the teen's behavior.  "What about them?"

Dawn nearly jumped at the impending badness of the situation.  "They heard your brothers talking about killing Aragorn and hurting you."

Arwen's eyes went wide as she slowly realized why Dawn was so upset.  "Oh, dear."

"Go get Haldir just in case!" Dawn told the she-Elf, giving her a small push towards the city as she released her arms.  "I left them on Cerin Amroth!"

Arwen nodded her understanding before motioning northwards.  "Go!"

Then Dawn was running.  Again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They were leaving.  Something that wasn't at all good.  Their rest had lasted just long enough for darkness to completely cover the area.  If it weren't for the fact that Elves seemed to glow slightly in the dark, Xander and Willow would never have been able to see them without the moonlight that wouldn't come for a few hours yet.

Willow watched as the two Elves slowly gathered the little equipment they had used during their rest.  They put the packets of lembas away, as well as the light cloaks they had used to shield out the night's chill.  The meaner looking one seemed to be trying to calm his horse, speaking to the stallion soft and low.

She turned to Xander, feeling slightly anxious in this new but familiar situation.  It had been long since she had fought anything, and then it had just been the random Orc.  "What should we do?"

"We need to keep them here," he said lowly, keeping his full concentration on the pair below them.  "They go into that wood, we'll never find them.  Then it'll be too late."

She frowned, doubt gnawing at her mind.  "You don't really think they'd get past Haldir's Hitler-like system, do you?"

Xander shrugged.  "When we're talking about a friend's life, I don't like to take any chances."

Willow sighed, looking around the black canopy of the forest, eyes searching for a solution that just wasn't there.  "Dawn's been gone awhile."

"We don't have to beat them, just hold them off for a little while," Xander pointed out, turning to meet her gaze with pleading eyes.  "I know you have a few tricks up your sleeve."

She swallowed, knowing what he was asking.  "The wards around us will go poof.  They'll be able to hear and see us."

He just continued to stare at her.  Then, falling back onto old instincts, she nodded.  "Okay, fine!"

A few muttered words later, the air around the hill shimmered brightly, too bright for them to even hope to mask from the strange Elves.  They both stiffened slightly, eyes instantly becoming sharper, the only outward sign that they had noticed anything at all.

Willow braced herself silently against the tree, concentrating all her thought on keeping everything about her, from her breathing to her movements, as quiet as possible.  Xander did the same, hunching next to her against the tree, seeking shelter among the shadows.  He had barely concealed himself in the darkness before piercing gray eyes started to search the canopy for signs of an adversary.

The Elves let their eyes rake slowly over their surroundings, taking in all slowly.  After they found nothing, the second of the two looked turned as if presenting himself.  "Ai na ennas?"

(Who is there?)

Willow bit her lip, praying to the Powers that they wouldn't be found.  They weren't.

The Elf with the colder eyes grew impatient.  "Come," he shouted to the night.  "Who is out there?"

Willow scowled at their use of the Common Tongue.  Few Elves knew the outside language, the ones that did either those that dealt with outsiders on a regular occasion, such as Haldir, a ruler, such as Galadriel or Celeborn, or one of the Rogues, Elves that had turned to darkness.  The Rogues were few and mostly cursed, but they still were.  And they were dangerous.

The first one became even more uncomfortable, drawing his bow and an arrow.  "Reveal yourself!"

Willow couldn't help but shift back against the tree as the Elf aimed the arrow at an area close to her.  It was a reflex to the danger.  But it was a reflex that only brought more danger instead of safety.

Willow's foot scrapped lightly against the bark, barely loud enough to even be heard.  Barely.  The arrow that had moved on snapped back at her and, with a loud twang, sailed free.  She shifted out of the way just in time, the deadly point of the weapon missing her by bare centimeters.  But the shift was quick, hurried.  It saved her from the arrow, yes, but her balance was sacrificed for her life.  She felt the air behind her part as her foot slipped slowly from the branch she was standing on.  She grabbed for something, anything to stable herself, but came up with air.  So, with a strangled yelp, Willow fell.

Xander dove for her, hand stretched out in a futile attempt to catch her.  "Willow!"

The sound of her named was cut off as the harsh air whistled past her ears.  She didn't scream, knowing that the soft herbs that carpeted the hill would cushion her fall.  And she was right.  The landing was not painful.  In fact, she found it quite comfortable, having bounced slightly back up into the air.  But lying on the ground, trying to reprocess her thoughts, she realized the true danger she was in.

Willow instantly shot up, turning to see the glint of the metal tips of two arrows barely a few inches away from her face.  She glanced up, seeing the two Elves studying her quizzically.  The kinder of the two dropped his aim a bit, as if unsure of what to do.  "Adaneth?"

(Woman?)

The harsher glanced at his brother from the corner of his eye, his expression only growing colder.  He did, however, step back allowing Willow the chance to get to her feet.  "Who are you and what business do you have in the realm of Lórien?"

Willow looked from the Elf to the arrow, then back to the Elf.  She knew from the glint in his eye that he would have no trouble shooting her.  In fact, he looked close to doing so without giving her the chance to speak.  And even if she told them anything, they would only kill her after.  A citizen of Lórien hearing a plot against her home?  It would not do to allow such a witness to live.

Willow focused her attention on not only his bow, but the other confused Elf's bow.  She lifted her hands skyward.  "Am!"

(Up!)

Both bows jerked skywards, ripping from the hands of their wielders.  Willow allowed the weapons to continue up before letting the howling winds above take them a good bit into the woods.  The Elves looked up in shock, then turned to her.  The kinder looked her over as if seeing her in a new light…a light he obviously did not like.  "Morgul."

Thy both reached behind hands moving to the other weapons they had strapped upon them.

"Daro!"

(Halt!)

Willow sighed in relief as Xander stepped up beside her, bow raised, arrow aimed for the colder Elf.  Xander, who, Willow noted, was extremely intimidating with his eye-patch and very harsh scowl, let his eye sweep over the Elf he was aiming at.  He scowled even more and took a threatening step forward.  "Man nach?"

(Who are you?)

The Elf in question raised an eyebrow, looking down on the mortal Xander.  "Avon dambeth an adan."

(I do not answer to a Man.)

Xander smirked, not wilting under the Elf's superior look.  "Man câr lle istach im non adan?"

(What makes you think I'm a Man?)

"Ten na lle telich no sí ned dôr'edhellen, Adan?" the Elf tried again, aggravated at Xander's insolence.

(How is it you come to be here in Elven lands, Man?)

Xander raised his eyebrow.  "Ten na lle telich no ned beriennin dôr, erui gûd?"

(How is it you come to be in protected lands, stranger?)

The Elf growled.  By the Powers, Willow would swear forever that this strange Elf growled.  And boy was he scary when he did.  "Leitho gûl'lín."

(Release your magics.)

"Daro sigil'lín," Xander countered easily.

(Put down your weapons.)

The Elf took a threatening step forward, hand moving not to release the belt buckle, but to the knives themselves.  "Avon trenaro lle edwen lû."

(I will not tell you a second time.)

Xander frowned as he drew the bowstring tighter.  "Law im."

(Nor will I.)

The Elf smiled evilly.  "Bêd iest'lín."

(As you wish.)

Then he jumped up, disappearing from range.  The other Elf, long ignored by Xander as the weaker of the two, appeared, knocking the bow from Xander's grasp.  Xander was barely able to catch the hands that brought the knives towards his body eagerly.

Willow moved to help, but was stopped by a sudden hand on her arm.  She turned to see the Elf Xander had been bantering with smirking at her.

"Gollor."

(Witch.)

Willow really hoped Dawn would come back soon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the time Dawn returned, the garment that had been her dress was pretty much unrecognizable.  Dirty, torn, it was a nightmare.  But she didn't even register the fact.  All she could think of was her friends.  She could feel several others following close behind in the back of her mind, the help Arwen had fetched slowly catching up to her.  But she knew she'd get to Cerin Amroth first.  She didn't even try and be quiet as she approached the hill.  She continued on at full speed.  But she was halted by something she didn't expect.

A shield.  Someone had erected a magical shield all around the base of the hill.  It was a simple enough spell.  Something even Xander could probably have managed.  A bastardization of the spell Willow had used to protect the group when they had been on the run from the Knights of Byzantium.  It was designed to keep enemies away from a specific place.  But it could also keep things in.  And, even though most did not use it, the Elves were naturally gifted with magical ability.  There was no way they would not notice the shield.  And anyone would take that as an aggressive act.

Dawn focused her attention, circling her hand in front of her.  With a small breeze, the shield fell.

It was a short dash to the clearing.  But what she got when she reached it was something else all together.

Xander was rolling around on the ground with one of the Elves in a sort of reversion back to street fighting.  Neither one was armed and the Elf seemed to be having a harder time competing with Xander's hand-to-hand style.  Not that the Elf even looked bruised.  Or dirty.

Willow, on the other hand, was backed against a tree.  The Elf had her pressed against it a knife raised high in the air.

"Willow!" Dawn screamed as the knife started its horrifying arc downwards.

The Elf froze and turned to her.  He looked surprised to see her there, half-naked and bleeding from her run.  His eyes met hers.  Dawn frowned and stopped, looking into those eyes, losing a part of herself to her depth, their meaning.

"Dawn, get out of here!" Willow shouted, breaking the small spell that had taken a hold of the younger girl.  She reached up and grabbed for the hand holding the knife, pushing the Elf away.

The Elf looked back, a bit confused.  Then he began to struggle with the redhead.

Dawn looked from Willow to Xander, confused, not knowing whom to help first.  She was about to just run and kick whoever she came to first, when…

About ten other people suddenly crashed into the clearing.  Galadriel, Giles, Celeborn, Arwen, Haldir, and a few of Haldir's men looked around.  Galadriel was the first to take in the scene.  And boy did she look pissed.

"Law, hîn!" Galadriel shouted, clapping her hands twice.  The first thunderous clap separated Xander and his Elf by a good twenty feet.  The second brought all weapons instantly to Haldir's side.

(Boys, no!)

Willow stopped her struggle with the Elf in front of her, looking very much relieved.  She gave a small bow to the Lady of Lórien.  "Híril'l--"

She was cut off, however, by a sharp slap across the face.  Willow's Elf was not happy.  At all.

"Willow!" Dawn shouted as her friend slumped back against the tree.

"Gollor!" the Elf screamed, advancing on Willow.

(Witch!)

Dawn was mad.  Which was never a good thing.  It took her three steps to reach the Elf.  She grabbed his wrist, not even noting the way the sleeve was torn off to expose his creamy, glowing skin.  "Hey, back off, bud--"

Dawn cut off the moment her fingers wrapped around his arm.  

The moment her flesh touched his, something between heat and electricity shot through her.  From the ends of her hair to the tips of her toes, she felt it, consuming her.  It wasn't a bad feeling.  Actually, it was good.  It was a sense of newness, of herself, pieces and puzzles and light and darkness all swirling together into one.  Completeness.

The electric heat slowly faded, allowing Dawn to come back to Arda.  But the strange feeling didn't fade.  It was in her blood now, like a disease.  A good disease.  It sand to her, coursing through her veins, urging her along with every heartbeat.  It was extremely confusing.

Dawn looked up, trying to get her bearings again.  "What the hell…"

Her eyes met the wide, grey eyes of the Elf she was still latched onto.  He was staring at her.  And from the look in his eyes, she knew that whatever it was that had happened to her, it was happening to him, too.

And, as ever, he was not pleased

The Elf pushed her away, not harshly as he had with Willow.  It was more of an attempt to put distance between them.  Dawn's grip on his wrist failed, and when she released him, the feeling she had experienced faded slightly.  It collected itself, urging her onward, yet settling in her stomach.

The Elf scowled at her.  "Get away from me, woman!"

Dawn blinked, still confused from the entire ordeal.  "Excuse me?"

"What did you do to me, witch?" he asked sharply, taking another step back.

Dawn's mouth dropped open as her eyes filled with anger.  "I'm not a witch!"

"Um…Dawn…"

Dawn turned to see everyone in the clearing watching her interaction with the Elf intently.  Willow, who had been the one to speak, was looking at her pointedly.

Dawn rolled her eyes as she turned back to the Elf.  "Okay, maybe a little witch, but I didn't do anything to you!"

"Dawn, what--" Xander started from somewhere behind her.

Dawn, though, finished for the one-eyed man as she took a threatening step towards the Elf.  "What did you do to me?!"

The Elf started to reply, then froze as if hearing this for the first time.  "I did to you?!"

Dawn took another step towards the Elf, slowly forcing him against the tree he had pinned Willow to.  "Well, someone did something to someone and since I didn't do anything to you the only logical conclusion left is that you did something to me!"

"Whoa," she heard Xander mutter behind her.

"Who are you?" Willow asked in a futile attempt to break the tension.

"Willow, Xander," Arwen began slowly, a hint of a smile in her voice, mixed in with a great deal of annoyance.  "I present to you my elder brothers, Elladan and Elrohir."

Willow hesitated, then blinked.  "Brothers?"

"Oops," Xander replied simply.

Dawn, refusing to step back and allow the Elf freedom from the tree, turned her head to glare at her friends.  "Yeah, oops."

Willow looked from the Elf now standing by Arwen's side to the one with Dawn.  "Which one is Elladan and which one is Elrohir?"

The brothers stood straight and replied in complete unison, "I am."

Arwen looked more frustrated than Dawn had ever seen her.  She slapped the one beside her in the chest.  "This one is Elladan.  And Meluiell, the one you have backed against the tree is Elrohir."

The one Arwen had indicated to be Elrohir, snapped his attention back to Dawn.  "Meluiell?"

"You are the…" Elladan began, glancing from Xander, to Willow, to Dawn, "_Northerners_ we've heard so much about?"

Xander smirked at Arwen.  "Been talking about us?"

"A bit, yes," Arwen replied teasingly.

"Our father had much to say about your companions," Elladan said as he relaxed a bit.  "The ones that travel with Estel."

Elrohir nudged Dawn a bit, bringing her attention back to him.  He was still pinned uncomfortably against the tree.  He raised an eyebrow as he glared at her coldly.  "Do you mind?"

Dawn blinked, taking a step back.  "Oh, sorry."

He nodded once, pushing himself away from the tree.  But he went a bit too soon.

Elrohir knocked into Dawn, sending her tumbling to the ground.  She sat up, staring at him crossly.  "Hey!"

"Watch it!" Xander snapped as he appeared at Dawn's side.

Elrohir scowled.  "Watch what, pray tell?"

"Who shoved the stick up your butt?" Dawn clipped out angrily, shoving Xander away and jumping to her feet.

Elrohir straightened threateningly.  "Excuse me?"

"You are definitely _not_ excused," Dawn snarled.

He moved to confront the woman, but was halted by angry words from Celeborn.  "Elrohir, you forget yourself."

Elrohir turned to his grandfather, bowing in respect.  "She is merely a girl-child--"

"Fostered of me and mine and given sanctuary in these lands as our kin!" Celeborn replied harshly, drawing himself to his full height.  Dawn smiled softly.  Rarely did she see Celeborn in his role of Big Bad Elf Lord.  But she loved it when she did.

Elrohir turned to Dawn and stiffly bowed to her.  "Díheno nin."

(Forgive me.)

Then he turned and started towards Caras Galadhon. "What the hell?"

"Ah, mm," Elladan mumbled as he watched his twin push his way through the crowd.  Then she shook his head, turning to bow to, well, everyone.  "Mae govannen, nothrim'nín."

Arwen smiled, then pulled her brother into a hug.  "Mae govannen, Elladan."

Giles shook his head, then made his way over to Dawn.  He pulled of his cloak, wrapping it around the younger girl's shoulders.  In all that had happened, Dawn had forgotten she had basically lost her dress.  Giles just continued to smile.  "Looks like things are going to get a bit more interesting in Lothlórien."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N:  Please remember to review.  That's nice for…REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!


	19. Rangers Built Ford Tough

"A satchel full of Shire tobaccus and a barrel of ale he bests her."

I looked over to the Man at my right. He was not the typical Man one would usually find in the camp. He was large, with much more weight on him than a healthy person should have. He could not be a Ranger, which was odd, for only Ranger's would brave the dangerous roads that led back to the ruins of Fornost Erain, the long-abandoned capital of the Lost Realm of Arnor. The Dúnedain camp here was secretive and few outside our brotherhood knew of its existence.

The Man raised a brow, smiling at me with rotten teeth as he raised his goblet of ale in a form of salute. I smiled at him, not feeling even a bit of sympathy for him and his doomed gamble. I nodded once. "I take your wager."

I leaned back against the wall I was seated against, grinning broadly as the fight in the main yard in front of me became a bit rougher. She was angry. Far angrier than I had ever seen her. Of course, he was tricky, years of his company had taught me that. She was not happy with herself, not happy that this Man was still standing before her, not happy that she was actually sweating.

Fists and feet, jabs and kicks. No weapons. It was like some kind of an art. She was dancing, body moving in a fast pace that made its own rhythm. I had seen this dance before, many times, when she would fight, when any of them would fight. He, though, he was not dancing. He was laughing. Everything about him, every punch, every hit, was a laugh.

The many Men watching the fight with interest laughed when he broke through her dance and landed a hit. She faltered, stumbling for but a moment. But the moment was all he needed. Arms wrapped around her, one circling her neck and shoulders, the other latching onto her waist.

His scraggly face close to hers, he laughed in earnest, hand around her waist shifting, to move liberally over her backside. "Do you yield?"

All around, the Rangers laughed all the more. Her eyes went wide at the offense, then her expression became fierce. "Never!"

And then I blinked. When my eyes opened again just a moment later, it was over. He was facedown on the ground with her towering above him, the offending arm twisted up behind his back, her foot placing a dangerous amount of pressure on his neck.

I caught his eye from where I was sitting, and he smiled. "I yield, my lady."

"Shite and Orcs!" the ogre of a Man at my side cursed. All around, claps and whistles rung out at the victory.

She huffed, then released him, stepping back as he rolled over to grin at her. After a moment of contemplation, she smirked at him, then offered her hand. "Next time watch your hands, Halbarad."

Grinning savagely, he grabbed her hand and used it to hoist himself up. "I will remember that, lady."

"Buffy!"

Halbarad released Buffy's hand and stepped back as another lady I knew to be just as fierce, pushed her way into the circle. Buffy regarded the other woman, still winded from the round of sparring. "Faith."

Halbarad moved to greet Faith. The dark-haired Slayer immediately stopped, giving the Ranger a pointed look. "You, keep away from me."

Halbarad laughed heartily, giving the woman a mocking bow before ducking away. He sauntered over to where I was sitting and without any form of acknowledgement, flopped down onto the ground beside of me. He, like me, watched the two women from afar.

Faith turned to immediately to Buffy, relaxing slightly. "Scouts from the South came today."

Buffy raised an eyebrow as she scooped up her over-tunic from the ground. "Good day to you, too."

Faith's eyes widened slightly, then she took a half step back, smirking. Ever so slowly, she pulled a roll of parchment from her belt. "Oh. Okay, then. I'll take this letter from Lothlórien and--"

"No!" Buffy instantly dropped everything she had in her arms and jumped to Faith's side. "No! I'm sorry!"

Faith smiled as she handed the letter over, then glanced behind Buffy at a group of men who were enjoying some ale from Bree. "Spike!"

A head popped up from among the throng, looking around sluggishly. "Wha?!"

Faith rolled her eyes. "Get over here!"

Spike scowled at the Slayer, wincing at the sunlight shining behind them. "I'm busy!"

"Move your lazy ass!" Faith shouted loudly, causing the man to grimace. "_Now_!"

Spike staggered over a few moments later, not looking at all pleased. "What is it?"

Buffy looked up from letter and smirked. "Giles, Will, Xander, and Dawn send their love."

Instantly awake, he snapped to attention, grabbing for the piece of parchment. "Give it here!"

Faith shook her head. "Now, now, now, what do you say?"

Spike glared at her. "Go to hell."

"That's more like it," Faith said, and produced what Buffy had just realized was the other half of the rather long letter. Spike grabbed it before the blonde could even move.

"Hey!" Buffy protested loudly, reaching for the parchment.

Spike smacked her arms away easily. "Sod off."

"It's my sister!" Buffy screeched as she jumped on his back.

In a matter of moments, the two humans were rolling around on the ground, trying to wrestle the pieces of parchment from each other. Faith stood above them, watching the display with amusement.

Beside me, Halbarad gave a deep rumbling bark of a laugh. "They are something extraordinary."

I inclined my head slightly, watching as Buffy kicked out a leg and brought Faith down to the ground as well. "That they are."

"It's been, what?" he asked, turning to face me. "Eighteen months?"

I shook my head slowly, wondering myself at the time it had been. "Two years."

Halbarad nodded, thinking. "Two years. Mm. They have accomplished much in a short time."

"There was little left that they had to be accomplished in," I admitted, wishing their progress could be credited to my guidance. "They were already well trained when they came to me."

Halbarad gave a stiff nod, though his eyes revealed the awe he felt for the three humans. "It usually takes a young one twenty years to master what they have in two."

I couldn't help it. I smiled slyly, looking at him from the corners of my eyes. "It took me only sixteen."

Halbarad narrowed his eyes at me, then shook his head. "Varmint."

"Old man," I said back.

His playful demeanor sobered as quickly as it came. He turned back to watch as Spike chased Buffy into the ruins, knife in his hands. I sighed. I knew what was coming. And he knew I did. He turned to me. "You know it is time."

I nodded once. "I know."

"I've sent out scouts," he continued without acknowledging my reply. I turned to him in surprise, thinking he would have consulted with me before making so radical a move. He did not acknowledge this move either. "They are looking for any signs of an appropriate subject."

I glanced down at the ground, dead and dry, feeling a great weight in my chest. Fear. Guilt. "There will be. There always is. Seems almost like fate."

"Aye," Halbarad agreed darkly. He was silent for a moment, allowing himself the same small smile I allowed myself when Spike and Buffy finally sat down together at the top of one half-crumbled tower, holding the two pages of the letter up side by side to read together.

Halbarad finally sighed, looking down. "It's a good time of year. Muddy. It will not be too much."

"I know."

"Tomorrow. First light. I will let you know where."

I looked up at the three companions. My companions. I knew them. I knew how they felt on certain matters. If they lived…if they allowed me to live…they might never forgive me.

I stood, resolved to play my part. Determined, I strode over to the base of the tower, stepping next to the laughing Faith. "Erniethan! Eirien!"

"Strider!" Faith greeted, clapping her small hand to my shoulder. "We've had word from Lórien."

"Arwen wrote a postscript for you!" Buffy called from her perch atop the mass of stone.

Them and their strange speech. I have been able to adapt to their so-called…_Scooby-speak_, but oft times, I find myself unable to understand their complicated and mostly pointless ramblings. Fond of the same ramblings as I may be. It is frustrating. "A what?"

"A note!" Faith said as if I should have known such a simple thing.

Spike sighed, took the last half of the letter from Buffy, who did not protest having finally read it, and pushed himself off the tower. He landed unsteadily on his feet, ripping the second bit of parchment in half and giving me the latter half of the two. "Here."

I looked down at the writing in my hand, gently smiling when I recognized the flowing script of Arwen's hand. I nodded to Spike, looking up to meet his eyes as I tucked the letter away for reading in private later. "Hannad lle."

A small thud behind me let me know that Buffy had tired from being alone on top of the mound of stone. I turned a bit, widening our odd circle to include her in it. "What's the what?"

"Tomorrow, first light," I told her. "There's trouble been reported."

Faith frowned, hand twitching downward to the blade at her side. "Why not now?"

"I do not care to leave now," I answered, looking purposefully at Spike. "Not when Erniethan is so…tired."

Buffy smirked. "Drunk."

Spike scowled in offense. "Oi! I'm not drunk!"

Buffy quirked her brow, looking at him incredulously. "You're pushing your limit, bud."

"I'd lay off, B. At least he has an excuse for that display just now."

Buffy reddened and looked away. Faith smirked in satisfaction.

Smiling inwardly, I gave no outward acknowledgement to any of this. I had learned long ago that to do so would just turn their aim to me. "At first light we ride."

"Got it," Buffy quipped before turning and heading for the tent she shared with Faith.

Spike gave me nod. "Whatever you say."

Faith smiled in agreement. "You're the boss."

I felt no better than Orc-scum.

"Why are we out here, Aragorn?"

I scowled at the dark-haired woman at my side. She was asking far too many questions. Questions I myself did not want to even think of the answers to. "Do not question, Faith. Only learn."

The Greenway was eerily calm that morning. The mists of the Barrows had traveled out to haunt them, casting an evil glow to the morning light. We were a good few leagues north of Staddle, and double that from Bree. The air was thick and wet, but cold. Very cold. Sleepy. Dark.

"Learn my ass," I heard Faith mutter softly. I turned to look at her and she flushed red. "I dropped out of school, you know."

Yes, I knew. I knew that she no longer needed to learn from me. That was the point of this entire exercise. I motioned to the ground in front of me. "What do you see?"

Faith gave a small huff, then pushed past me. She hunched down on the balls of her feet, studying the ground intently. She knew, as well as I, that every bit of dirt, every blade of grass, everything had a story to tell. She pushed a tuft of weeds aside, brow furrowing. "Orcs. A dozen, maybe more."

Spike circled around the road, eyes trained on a patch of trees a short distance away. He stopped, nostrils widening slightly as he sniffed at the sir. His mouth set in a grim line. "They've killed recently. Ambushed travelers. Killed four Men."

Buffy was a few feet from Spike, eyes searching a group of dead brush next to the road. She picked a withered leaf from the thorny branches, gazing at it in concern. "They have hostages. Two young girls."

"They're headed South," Faith finished, straightening beside me. "Less than two days ahead of us."

"Two days," I repeated, surprised with their skills as always. "An impressive lead."

Spike snorted as he came back to the road. "You've caught Orcs with larger leads easily before."

I sighed. It was time. "You're right. I have."

I turned and headed back to Manchester, Spike's faithful steed, the only I'd allowed my three students to bring. I hoisted myself into his back, then guided him closer to the humans. I looked down at Spike and asked, "Can you?"

Faith blinked, eyes confused as she watch me lead Manchester into a trot. "Strider?"

I turned slightly to look back. Buffy, Spike, and Faith, my three friends. All were staring after me. Buffy was shocked. Spike was already angry. Faith was confused. I nodded at them grimly. "Save the girls."

With that, I broke Manchester into a gallop. I abandoned them there. No food. No money. Armed only with their blades and bows.

I gritted my teeth when Buffy's outraged cries reechoed to me. "Oh, you've gotta be shitting me!"

When I was finally a good distance away, I veered west. It only took me a short time to find the group of five Rangers, waiting patiently for me on the stony ridge of the nearest hill.

Halbarad greeted me with a nod to the east. From our place hidden amongst the rocks of the hilltop, we watched as the trio I had just left alone. They were following the path the mindless Orcs had left, but their movements were…quick…furious.

Haldir sighed. "They don't seem extremely happy."

"Definitely not," I murmured, cringing.

Halbarad smiled at me, placing a hand on my shoulder in an attempt to ease my troubles. It failed. "Well, my friend, what do you think?"

I sighed unhappily as I watched Faith kick a tree, which overturned from the power of the attack. "I think the next few days will be interesting."

Halbarad gave a low whistle as the doomed tree crashed to the ground. "Indeed."

A year. Over a year since the strange women and man set out on this journey with me. Months since we reached the camps of my kinsmen. Months of training, of showing me what they can do. Months spent in companionship, of dependence upon one another in the Wilds.

They were strong. I knew they would survive this. As Halbarad, the others, and I followed, watching from a distance as they tracked their prey, I couldn't help but marvel. For that was what they were doing. Hunting their prey. They were predators, in every way, slinking through the trees like a fox, crossing the plains as swiftly as the gazelle.

They made good time. They were just a few hours behind the Orcs, after just the one-day's pursuit. I knew that my companions would never admit and that even I would probably have trouble saying the words aloud myself, but we had had trouble keeping up with the three humans.

I sighed as I thought on the trio resting just beyond my sight. They had become dear to me over the past two years. As good of friends as any I had. They were sincere, the sincerest of souls I had ever known. They lived to help. It was their purpose in life. They helped by fighting back evil. Yes. But they have helped me in such a way…they have understood my burden. They have looked beyond all my names, all of my titles, all that the world expects and would see me become…and they have seen _me_. The Man beneath the expectations.

Buffy understands my heritage. She has a heritage of her own. She understands the burden that comes with such a heritage. She is strong and beautiful, on the surface and in her heart. She has an iron will, and she does not shrink back from the Shadows. She is comfortable in the position of leadership. She fights hard and will continue to do so for many years. But the want for peace…the need for quiet…the desire to be free…hers is more desperate than I think even mine is. She does not want to be in Middle-Earth. She will not let go of the hope of returning to her homeland. And I fear she'll despair of her fate before the end.

Spike has become a true friend, a real brother in arms. He is a natural leader, anchored in his very blood. He cares not for fate or destiny. He prefers to make his own. But he can follow, something which many leaders cannot force themselves to do. To have such a strength of will, but to be able to fall in line when needed…it makes him unique. He is also wise. Learned enough, that is for sure, mostly in the arts, though he hates to admit it. But his wisdom lies in his perception. He can see where events are leading before they get there. His eyes can see through the lies we tell, even the ones we tell ourselves to shield ourselves from the harsh truths of the world. He knows the measure of a man after just a spending a short while in his company. And he knows just how to influence that man. To encourage or to bring down, though I had only seen him do the former. Well, occasionally, he'd use his gift when gambling. Which is why I had learned quickly it was best to make my wagers when they were on his side.

Then there was Faith. Faith, a woman whose understanding of my burdens was much like Buffy's. But, unlike Buffy, Faith had embraced her fate as the Slayer. She was a woman who was not conflicted about who she was. She knew herself well. Her burdens lied in her past. Unlike Spike, who did not let the wrongs he had committed haunt him so, Faith was constantly plagued by her shortcomings. She used her past as her motivation to fight on. And she was extremely careful of her feelings. She is always guarded around others, especially her fellow humans. As if she was using her last chance and to fall short of perfect obedience to her friends' wills and opinions would be to use her last chance. I now believe in my heart that she considers Arwen a closer friend than she does Buffy. Not because of any fault of Buffy's. The blonde fully accepts the woman and knows that she is redeemed. But the worry sometimes can still shine through her eyes, worry that the other Slayer won't be able to fight through the trials that face them. Faith hated this worry. Arwen understood this about Faith and saw in her the true nature of her spirit, as I do. Faith, while very honest about the nature of the world, especially the world's darkest sides, sees the hope of redemption in everything. Not her own redemption, but the redemption of the world itself. Faith had faith. Faith in a better world.

"Strider?"

I looked up sharply, broken from my musings by the sharp voice of the youngest Ranger in our company. I looked up at the Man, surprised to find him looking anxious. "What, Adelgar?"

He hesitated for a moment, before replying in a shaky voice, "The young ones…they have disappeared."

I stood immediately. "Disappeared?"

Halbarad appeared from the tree line, looking grim. "We lost them."

I huffed in frustration, starting towards the edge of the small woods. "Where were they last seen?"

Halbarad nodded onward. "Headed in this direction."

My eyes searched the ground, the trees, anything, everything. There was no sign of them. I stepped forward, desperate to find a clue to my friends' whereabouts. "I do not see--"

I heard the ground begin to give before I felt it. Adelgar stumbled as the earth fell out from beneath us. As I felt myself beginning to fall, I turned, searching for an escape. But the pit I was over was large, built to give far from any edges after much weight had been put on its center. Halbarad grabbed at me, at first to save me from the fall, then to try and save himself as the collapse captured him. "Aragorn!"

The pit was deep. Very deep. Deeper than the length of two Men. Yet it was not deep enough to cause any injury on impact. Which suggested this pit was constructed with the purpose of capture, but not harm. It was also extremely wide. All six of us were caught.

Coughing, I pushed myself to my feet, squinting through the haze the stirring of the dirt had caused. I looked up and around, hoping for some niche, slant, or rough edging to use for escape. But the higher the pit got, the sharper it slanted inwards.

Suddenly, three heads appeared from the edges of the pit. Buffy, Spike, and Faith smiled down at us. Faith even waved. "Hey."

Damn.

"Okay," Buffy drawled as she stood over us. "This is where you guys will get off the monkey train."

Halbarad flushed and scowled at the blonde woman. "Excuse me?"

Buffy shook her head as if she were scolding a young child. "I don't know why you've been following us like lost little lambs after you sent us on this wild goose chase, but it's getting old. Especially when we have to worry about your pansy asses getting eaten or something."

I sighed guiltily. "Eirien, I--"

"We don't have time for this," Spike interrupted, looking at the morning sun burning brightly in the sky to the east.

Faith grabbed something I couldn't quite see, then nodded. "Yeah, all right."

I frowned, beginning to worry about my safety, though I knew the trio would never purposefully do anything to harm me…much. "Rossell?"

Faith looked down at the six of us, eyes locking with mine, her playful smile gone. "Just sit tight. We'll be back before sundown."

"Erniethan!" Halbarad shouted in alarm.

I, myself, sat down and made myself comfortable. I knew there was nothing to be done.

"Eirien! Rossell!"

I gave Halbarad a look that I willed to contain every wearisome emotion I had experienced on this long trip. "This was brilliant."

They returned precisely when they said they would, a few moments before the sun had set. They brought with them two young girls, both relatively unharmed. Even their young minds seemed better than I would have even hoped, for they were giggling and playing games with Spike when they arrived. When we took the girls to Bree and left them in the care of the Man and Woman they had pointed out as their uncle and aunt, they had simply smiled and waved goodbye.

But without the girls to care for, the wrath of the three humans was finally brought out into the open. Ever since they had pulled the six of us from the pit, they hadn't spoken to us directly unless it had been absolutely necessary. I knew better to even try and break a truce with them until they were calm.

We weren't even half of a league from the gates of Bree before Buffy exploded. "What was the point of that?!"

Halbarad opened his mouth to reply, but I quickly beat him to it. "It was a test."

Faith raised a brow. "A test?"

"Yes," I replied simply before turning to my five fellow Rangers. "Please, continue on."

Halbarad nodded his understanding before taking Manchester's reigns and leading him and the other Rangers on. Buffy, Faith and Spike knew enough to wait until they were out of earshot before continuing.

"I hate tests," Buffy growled lowly at me, eyes furious.

I sighed. "Buffy, I know of the tests your Council of Watchers put you through. I know of the tests others have put you through. There is one very important difference between this test and those tests."

Spike snorted in disbelief. "And what would that be?"

"This one was necessary," I said firmly.

They all three eyed me, all suspicious. I simply nodded. "It was not something born of sport or tradition. You have all three been my students for over a year. You are quick and eager to learn, and learned you have. There is little more I can teach you."

With that announcement, all three froze. They stared at me, as if not believing it could be true. I smiled. "But before I released you upon Middle-Earth, I had to be certain you could handle yourselves within it. You have proven you can. There is nothing more you need from me."

A long silence followed. I knew it was a hard one for them. Oh, they forgave me. I could see that right away. They understood the necessity of this test. But once again, their futures were uncertain. Hard choices had to be made.

Faith was the one to first give words to her doubt. "So what now? We just go? You're just going to send us out?"

"If you wish," I replied honestly, praying to Iluvatar that they would not leave on their own. "It is your decision."

"But…" Buffy started slowly, simply. "I like it here."

Spike gave a stiff nod of agreement. "Me, too."

I sighed again, not wanting to encourage them to leave, but at the same time trying to raise their confidence. "All of you, it is time to make your own names. Buffy, you said yourself that you are a part of _this_ world now. If you wish to stay, then stay. If you wish to help me in my journeys, then please, I need the help. But it is time for you to get the notion out of your head that you are my followers."

Buffy sighed eyes trained on the ground. She understood what I was saying, maybe most of all, for she followed everything I told her without question. It was against her nature to do so, but I knew that she was frightened enough of Middle-Earth that she was willing to follow. "You are all three strong, independent people. I know how frightening being in this land must be, and I have done my best to help, to guide you through your first steps. But you do not need a guide any longer. It is time for you to guide."

After a long pause, Faith met my gaze. She nodded once, telling me silently that she understood and accepted what I had said.

Spike, too, nodded. He sighed resignedly. "You're right."

Finally, after many moments of consideration, Buffy looked up. She grinned at me and I felt my heart lighten in relief. "Time to take off the kid gloves."

And three new Rangers entered our brotherhood…two of them sisters.

A/N: Yeah, I know. Only took me how long? Not that my old computer catching fire wasn't a good excuse. Damn Compaqs. But things have worked out better than I could have hoped. I got an (almost) brand new computer donated to me and the hard drive on my old computer was easier to retrieve than I thought it would be. So yay! This chapter was also particularly hard to write. I'm not exactly sure why, since it seemed to come together pretty well in the end. Maybe it was writing the whole Ranger thing. Hope not since I have another two chapters about the Rangers left to go.

Hopefully updates will be more regular the rest of the summer, though I'm not sure if that'll be completely true. My job, dream in the beginning now turned nightmare since my manager was replaced. My twenty-five hour workweek has doubled. But I'm still part-time. No we wouldn't want to make that mistake. Even though I now work more hours than my mother, who works fulltime at her job. I really want to quit. Someone tell me it's okay to quit under those conditions.

Oh, don't forget to REVIEW!


	20. Song of My Heart

"All hail Elladan the Brave!"

Dawn Summers and Willow Rosenberg stopped their afternoon walk through the city and whirled around, both extremely annoyed. But it did not change the fact that Elladan, eldest son of Lord Elrond Half-Elven of Imladris, was doing a sort of half-skip towards them while holding his right arm out in front of him, while Alexander Harris jogged behind, clapping two wooden bowls together in a double tempo.

Willow sighed and pinched the top of her nose as if she had a headache. Dawn knew the feeling. It had been four months since Elladan had arrived in Lórien with his twin brother Elrohir. And an interesting four months it had been.

The twins' arrival in Lórien had been a dramatic one. And the first impression each made was a cool, hard one. But, as Giles, Xander, Willow, and Dawn had soon learned, this impression was almost one hundred percent false. The twins were very serious and dangerous Elves when crossed, that was sure. But in day-to-day living…they were goofy. And when they had been introduced to the Zany Xander Harris, Lórien had become a joker's playground.

Haldir could almost always be found scowling those days, for if it wasn't one thing with this new, scary trio, it was another. The first serious affront to the sacred air of Caras Galadhon had been what was later called the Skunk Incident. Of course, Giles had been able to get the smell out of his clothing…eventually. Then had come the Mirror Affair. Galadriel had been in a rampage for weeks after that, even though the red dye powder had easily been removed from the water in her Mirror by just simply replacing it. Arwen had just rolled her eyes and smacked both of her elder brothers upside the head when she had awoken from her reverie to find her long hair slicked with some sort of caking agent and positioned in an ostentatious do on the top of her head. And when Haldir had awoken from _his_ reverie to find his underpants proudly displayed on a banister outside of his flet, well, it hadn't been too irreversible. And Willow hadn't complained…_much_…when her dresses suddenly turned bright neon orange. And Celeborn's household had enjoyed the day off when they had to be confined to the flet after eating a meal which was laced with an herb that was more powerful than the strongest Ex-Lax.

And those were only the one-time offenses. The day to day joking was much worse.

But all jokes aside, the twins were becoming extremely good friends to the humans, Xander in particular. Those days, Xander was found hunting and patrolling the borders of Lórien with the twins more often than he had ever done with Haldir. Neither Elf had a love for Orcs and were both most lethal when hunting them down, something Arwen had explained had to do with an incident with their mother, who had sailed West years ago after being poisoned by an Orc arrow. Elladan was the goofier of the two, and a tad bit more carefree than his brother despite being a few minutes older and therefore the firstborn. And Elrohir, well, according to Arwen and Elladan, normally Elrohir was almost as easy-going as his twin when the occasion called for it. And when with Arwen, Elladan, Xander, or Willow, he was. But when Elrohir was even in the same flet as Dawn, it was catastrophe.

It was easy, at least, for Dawn to tell the two apart, when it was so hard for even Arwen to do the same. Whenever she saw Elladan, his eyes took on a teasing, mischievous light, and treated her like a friend. But before she ever saw Elrohir, she could feel his cold presence begin to suffocate her, like an old wet blanket.

They argued. Oh, did they argue. The nightly family dinners had begun to become a dangerous affair. It would usually begin with a cautious conversation that would soon become a heated argument which usually ended with Dawn dumping her wine on Elrohir and storming from the room. When they ran into each other in passing, there was usually some smacking around on Dawn's part. The Elf always restrained himself from laying a hand on her, though his biting comments were enough of a slap to the face. And there was always a bit of throwing, whether the items thrown belonged to the pair or not. Xander, Willow, Arwen, and Elladan had quickly learned to hide their most prized treasures, especially if one of the two was going to be with them, for Dawn and Elrohir always seemed to find a way to find one another.

The fighting was straining everyone in Lórien's life, right down to the Elves neither of them really knew. It was a well-known fact to steer clear of them both. Celeborn and Galadriel ignored it best they could, only breaking their silence to reprimand both when things got out of hand…and they often did. Giles had taken to constantly glaring disapprovingly at them both, avoiding contact with both twins and spending less time with Dawn. Haldir, though, seemed to think that Dawn could do no wrong and was forever shielding her from the "wicked" Elf from Rivendell. Willow and Xander found themselves between a rock and a hard place. Every argument, every fight had no one in the right. Neither ever truly started it. And so they couldn't very well support Dawn, when she gave to Elrohir as well as he did to her. But Willow always stood by her side whenever things had gotten bad. And when the throwing had begun or a particularly harsh word was thrown, Xander was not above yelling at either, but usually at Elrohir. Elladan, of course, usually stood by his brother, but had been known to admonish his brother when he overstepped the bounds. Arwen's situation was harder than any of the rest. She was Elrohir's sister, but she had been becoming closer and closer to Dawn after Faith and Aragorn had left.

It did not help that most of the Elves, Arwen and Elladan in particular, seemed to know something Dawn did not. During a fight, even if it was especially bad, they would watch them, eyes finding one and staying on them with a bittersweet, knowing look. Even Xander and Willow had one day gone from shocked and clueless to wise and knowing. But they would not tell Dawn what about.

But, when Elrohir was not around, Dawn enjoyed her time with the Elf who looked so much like him. He was hilarious. And when paired with Xander, only an interesting time was to follow.

Dawn watched as Xander and Elladan came closer. Apparently, Xander had shared the tale of the Monty Python with Elladan. Dawn sighed, crossing her arms in front of her, then said in a loud voice, "Elladan the Batty, you mean."

Willow snorted beside her. "I swear, if Xander was an Elf, that's who he'd be."

A few feet away, Xander and Elladan stopped suddenly and turned to look at each other. Elladan frowned at his friend. "Was that supposed to be an insult?"

Xander nodded slowly. "I dare to believe it might have been."

Elladan scowled for a moment, then straightened and gave Xander a commanding look. "Come, Patsy!"

Immediately, the skipping and bowl clapping resumed, much to Willow and Dawn's chagrin. They stopped in just in front of the two slightly annoyed girls. Xander gave Elladan a look of wonder. "We have come across two ladies!"

Elladan was quick to "dismount" and then bow lowly at Willow and Dawn's feet. "Oh noble ladies of the distant realm of Sunnydale in the land of California, would you do honor to a poor, lowly Elf such as I and my pitiable one-eyed friend by walking with us in this great golden wood of woodsy things."

Willow raised an eyebrow and looked up at Xander. "Are you trying to teach him Scooby-speak?"

"Behold!" Xander cried, raising his arms high in the air. "The beautiful lady of blood red hair speaks! Her voice is like the screeches of a thousand cats all in the heart of their mating times."

Elladan grabbed Dawn's hand and bowed over it. "Be still my heart, which races at the sight of thy lovely puss-filled face."

"Screw," Dawn said slowly, "you."

Xander straightened instantly and whipped around to meet Elladan's gaze. "The lady speaks!"

Then they both fell to their knees, raising their arms high, then prostrating themselves on the ground.

"We're not worthy! We're not worthy!"

Willow watched them repeat this over and over again for a few moments before giving a sharp flick of her right wrist. As soon as she did, both of the frustrating males before the two witches flipped up to hang upside down in the air.

Xander gave Willow a pouty look. "Now, Wills, that's not nice."

Willow raised a brow, keeping both Xander and Elladan firmly up in the air. "And you were being nice?"

Elladan suddenly started waving his arms up and down. "I'm flying!"

Then Xander pointed straight at Willow. "It's a witch!"

"A witch!" Elladan cried loudly.

Xander nodded. "A witch!"

"A WITCH!"

Xander turned to look at Elladan, both still hanging in the air. "How do you know she is a witch?"

"She turned me into a newt!" Elladan cried in a very bad attempt at a British accent.

Xander nodded then started to look back at Willow and Dawn before whipping his confused gaze back to Elladan. "A _newt_?"

Elladan hesitated for a moment, looking just as confused as Xander, then nodded. "I got better."

Dawn sighed, beginning to feel the twinges of a very familiar headache. She turned her back to the floating pair and muttered to Willow, "Put them down."

She quickly hurried away from the two miscreants, disappearing down the path to the river. She was not in the mood for some reason. So she nearly ran, trying to put as much distance between herself and her friends.

And then she knew why she was not in the mood, feeling him before she saw him.

"Ah. Meluiell. I thought I heard your _dulcet_ tones."

Dawn winced. She turned ever so slightly and nodded to the Elf leaning against the tree to her right. "Elrohir."

She started to continue on in hopes of avoiding another argument when she heard his mocking voice say, "Not even going to acknowledge my existence?"

Dawn froze for a moment, just feeling the irritation of the day settle in her, then rounded on the Elf watching her so smugly. She scowled at him and placed her hands on her hips. "I did acknowledge your existence. Just then, when I said your name. You know, Elrohir, they found the center of the universe. It ain't you."

He sneered at her and pushed himself away from the tree, stepping closer to her. "No, I expect you believe that to be you. For what else would you think? Now, if you'll excuse me, I will go and inform the Valar that their replacement has arrived."

Dawn narrowed her eyes and raised her hand. "Why you--"

"What?" Elrohir snapped, grabbing the wrist that had moved to smack him and holding it in place. "Come, _Sweet-Daughter_, educate my simple mind which has been aware of this world for nigh on 2,852 years, when you have walked it but five…in your entire life, _Key_."

Dawn yanked her arm out of Elrohir's grip and smirked. "Is that supposed to be an insult? That I'm a being more powerful than you could imagine?"

Elrohir huffed in a mutated laugh. "Power does not make you great."

"I suppose you consider yourself to be great?" Dawn said with a snort, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

Elrohir raised a brow and gave her a calculating look. "I consider myself to greater than some."

"Oh, the mighty and brave Elrohir," Dawn said, voice dripping with sarcasm. She took a step forward so that she was directly in his face. "Who stays tucked away in Imladris as the Eastern Shadow lengthens. Easy to be mighty and brave from a safe distance."

Elrohir smirked at her, taking the insult in stride. "Is that why your sister is North now fighting while you are waited on as a noble lady here in the safest city east of the Misty Mountains?"

Dawn stepped back quickly, as if she had been struck across the face. "You have absolutely no heart, you asshole!"

Elrohir glared at her icily. "And you do?"

Dawn stepped once more towards the Elf, dangerously close. "If you think you do, then I _am_ a heart."

Suddenly, Elrohir grabbed Dawn by the shoulders in an almost painfully tight grip. His cold eyes glared menacingly into her own. "I would not have such a heart in my bosom, for the sake of my entire body."

"Why don't you go screw a mûmak, Elrohir?!" Dawn said loudly though they were barely inches apart. Using all of her strength and then some, she pushed away hard from the Elf. He stumbled back and suddenly it seemed as if the entire clearing were between them.

"Dawn?"

They both turned towards Xander's voice and even Dawn could hear the noise her friends were making as they tried to push through the brush of the Golden Wood. Dawn glanced at Elrohir, confused and completely disgusted. Not wanting any more of a confrontation or those damn knowing looks from either of her friends, she turned and fled.

Dawn ran, flying towards the Silverlode, trying desperately not to cry. She missed Buffy. It was like a piece of her was missing. She missed everything about her sister, right down to her bossy attitude. She missed Spike almost as much. He was like a brother to her, or a father, or something. She wasn't really sure what he was to her, but she knew he was her Spike, family all the same. She even missed Faith.

But most of all, she missed herself. The person she had been. A teenage girl in Sunnydale, going to high school with her friends, occasionally helping her Slayer sister battle the forces of darkness at night. She was nearing twenty now. And things had changed so drastically. And she knew that whatever the reason, she was becoming Meluiell Minuial, daughter of Galadriel and Celeborn, and that Dawn Summers was slowly fading into memory.

She tore down the path, up the rolling hills of the forest, not really knowing where she was running to anymore. She just wanted to get away. She wanted to go back to where her life was actually close to normal, where all people had round ears and lived seventy years. She wanted to go to college, meet a guy, get a job, get married, have children, have Christmas, be with her family…eat a cheeseburger.

Then, very suddenly and quite unexpectedly, something large and blond popped down from the tree above right in Dawn's face. "Meluiell!"

Taken completely off guard in her current emotional state, Dawn screamed and jumped back. It was only after her heel had caught on the root and she was tumbling backwards that she realized the creature hanging upside down in front of her was not something dreadful like an Orc, but that it was actually Orophin, the wiry, blue eyed younger brother of Haldir, who, having all but adopted Dawn, had made sure that both Orophin and Rúmil both understood their roles as overprotective guardians.

Orophin, though, was young for an Elf, barely one thousand. He was a great deal like Haldir in looks, though sometimes Dawn thought that nearly all of the Elves of the Galadhrim looked exactly the same: blond and beautiful. But Orophin was different from Haldir and their other brother, Rúmil. While both of the elder brothers were serious, Orophin was flighty. Don't get anything wrong, he was a Marchwarden, and a certain degree of seriousness did go along with that. But he was the baby of the family and it was obvious. He still liked to play.

But when Dawn had been pseudo-adopted by Haldir, Orophin got the chance to finally play older brother. Haldir was stifling, all controlling and protective. Rúmil just was, somewhat calmer than his elder brother. And Orophin wanted to both play like he was the boss of Dawn, and then simply play.

Which was mostly the reason she was about to take a very bad tumble down one of the larger hills in Lothlórien.

Orophin, realizing his mistake too late, reached out to try and save Dawn from her doom. Dawn grabbed at his hand, desperate to right herself. But all either of them accomplished was ensuring that Orophin followed Dawn down the grassy slope.

It wasn't as bad as it could have been. Thanks to a particularly lush patch of niphredil, Dawn had a soft landing. Much better than the one Orophin had with the rose bush. Dawn quickly righted herself, shaking from the rush of adrenaline she had gotten in the fall. She quickly checked herself over, thankful to find barely but a few scratches and already forming bruises. Then she rounded on the Elf sitting on the ground, looking extremely dazed by the entire experience. "Orophin, nin gruithach an guruth!

(Orophin, you scared me to death!)

The young Elf blinked a few times, then shook off the fall. His blue eyes met Dawn's, playful as ever. "Thiach cuin enni."

(You seem alive to me.)

Dawn scowled at the Elf, shifting to check the back of her dress. Thankfully, her favorite silver dress had suffered minimal damage, all of which could easily be repaired by herself, having become capable with the needle over the course of the past few years. She turned to once more berate Orophin for frightening her when she saw something the pushed all harsh thoughts from her mind. Orophin tried to push himself back to his feet as gracefully as an Elf could, only to wince and stumble very ungracefully to lean heavily against a tree, all his weight on his right foot.

Dawn was at the Elf's side in an instant, pushing her long hair behind her ears. "Nach mae?"

(Are you okay?)

Orophin frowned, then, concentrating hard, he rolled his left ankle slightly to the right. With a pained grunt he stopped almost instantly and shook his head slightly. "Law."

(No.)

"Sí," Dawn murmured, keeping her voice low and comforting. She stepped between the injured Elf and the tree, wrapping his arm around her and taking his weight onto her shoulders. "Havo dad."

(Here. Sit down.)

He nodded and allowed her to help him to the ground. As soon as he was seated against the trunk of the sprawling tree, Dawn nearly pounced on his ankle. As gently as possible, she slid his boot off his foot. Even though the Elf was doing his best to conceal his pain, she heard the slight hiss that escaped through his clenched teeth when she ran her hand over the slightly red swell where his foot and leg met.

Dawn closed her eyes, reaching out with her mind beneath the skin. When she found the problem she sighed and let go. "Sprain…"

"Man na?" Orophin asked, tone laced with his kind's slight fear of this subtle reminder of their pseudo-mortality.

(What?)

Dawn looked up at him and smiled cheerfully. "Na norn. Lle nastathon, pân tír, Orophin?

(It's sprained. I'm going to heal you, all right?)

He considered this for a moment, then nodded, eyes full of trust. "Aye. Caro."

(Yes. Do it.)

Once again, Dawn ran her right hand over his ankle, this time letting her left come around the back to form a circle. She closed her eyes once more, reaching out towards the twisted and strained muscles that had taken a beating in the tumble. Calling on reserves of power deep within her as Galadriel had taught her to do, she set about her task.

Several minutes later, Dawn gasped and dropped Orophin's ankle, sitting back into a relaxed posture. She breathed a bit labouredly, watching as the young Elf slowly started to roll his ankle.

Orophin's gaze snapped to hers. Then he smiled. Bouncing up to his feet in one smooth motion, he reached out for her hand. "Hannad lle!"

(Thank you!)

Dawn smiled back at her friend and accepted the hand before her. She should have known better. Almost instantly she was soaring through the air, landing firmly on Orophin's left shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

She slapped at his back, trying to act angry, but couldn't quite do it. She ended up giggling. "Orophin, put me down or I'll chop your hair off!"

Although she knew Orophin couldn't possibly have understood the English since he couldn't even say hello, he knew exactly what she was saying. Without any hesitation he dropped her. "Namárië."

Then he was gone.

Dawn looked around, trying to decide where she was. She was relieved to find that the fall had only saved her from following the winding path a mile further than she needed to. She was just a few yards from it and the clearing where the path to the Silverlode and the road from the outside world intersected.

She smiled to herself and started her walk once more, when she heard a low whistle behind her, then the sound of applause.

She whirled around to give the trio behind her a menacing look. "Oh, don't even tempt me to start on you guys."

"Actually, I'm impressed," Willow got out between giggles. "Dawn, that's some big mojo, healing like that."

Dawn scowled and turned to push through the foliage of the woods back to the path, swiping at the leaves and dirt clinging to her dress in the process. "You've done it bunches of times before."

Xander appeared by her side and easily pushed through the brush using the careful steps Haldir had taught him and pulled a clean handkerchief from inside of his tunic and holding it out for Dawn. "Yeah, but not without using up all her energy or, you know, being evil."

Willow was immediately behind her friend and wasted no time in cuffing him upside the head. "Xander! I'm not evil!"

Xander winced, then swatted Willow away with the hanky. "Right. I knew that."

Arwen just pushed on past them all to the path, ignoring the antics of the two best friends, and smiled brightly at Dawn. "Very well done, Meluiell."

Dawn blushed and moved to follow the elleth down the road. She knew that healing like that was a huge deal. She had never done it without Galadriel with her. But she honestly didn't want to think about what it could mean. She shrugged and grabbed the hanky out of Xander's hand as he fell into step behind them. "Well, I try."

"Galadriel will be proud," Willow said as she joined them, giving the girl a knowing smile.

Dawn paled. She loved being a witch and she loved learning and making the powerful she-Elf proud. But for some reason, she had felt a small rift opening between her and Galadriel lately. She didn't have any proof, but something that had been in their relationship before was now gone. "We don't really have to tell her."

"Meluiell," Arwen chastised with a smile. "You know she already knows."

Xander snorted. "Yeah, like anyone could sneeze in this forest without her knowing and being all haughty and with the…oops."

Dawn raised an eyebrow and glanced back at Willow and Arwen. They were both watching Xander, grinning in anticipation.

Xander realized his mistake too late. "No, I didn't mean--ow! Ow, ow!"

The ladies watched, amused, as Xander clutched his head, knowing the slight pinching headache he was in the middle of. Dawn, mood improving more and more, stuck her tongue out at him. "Serves you right."

"Guess who's going to get double duty next week with Haldir?" Willow half-sang as Xander reopened his eye, scowling. She giggled. "And you know he's not really all that happy with you because of the skunk."

Xander winced again. "Damn."

Dawn smiled, enjoying the company of her friends. Willow and Xander centered her, kept her stable. She loved them, a constant reminder of the past and present and, while they too were very different, they were still her family. She looked to Xander, who, if she recalled correctly, was supposed to be with Giles helping him learn the advanced bow techniques of the Galadhrim. But, since Xander had been with Elladan, obviously not. "So where's Giles?"

"Still shut up in Celeborn's study working on updating his calendar," Xander said with a sigh.

Dawn rolled her eyes. Giles latest project had been fine tuning his Earth/Middle-Earth corresponding calendar as accurately as possible, complete with holidays, birthdays, historical dates, and so on and so forth. Of all the species of Middle-Earth as well as Earth. Tedious. Boring.

But not without its good points.

Xander perked up after that comment. "Hey, you guys know it's Halloween, right?"

Willow nodded with a grin. "Yep. Giles told me last week."

Arwen looked to Dawn, confused. "Hallow what?"

"Halloween," she repeated, her bad mood completely dissolved with this interesting news. She could see the glint in Xander's eye as he worked out what it meant…that night was Mischief Night. "It's a holiday on our world. October 31st."

Willow skipped in excitement. "We should totally Trick or Treat!"

Dawn wrinkled her nose in thought. "I think Haldir might frown on it."

Xander laughed. "Elladan and Elrohir will totally go for it."

And just like that, the bad mood was back. Dawn scowled at the mention of her archenemy, then turned to glare at Xander. He just cringed. "Sorry, Dawn."

She sighed miserably. "You have to spoil it."

Willow gave her a small smile and the four of them walked in silence for several moments. Then Dawn heard it. The beautiful melody waving through the air. The words were of some language that sounded very near Quenya, but Quenya it was not. Whatever it was, it was enchanting. She could feel the music around her, like a warm blanket of life and love and energy…and great sorrow. Whatever this person was singing about…he was both very happy and very sad at the same time. Like the emotion in a parent's face at their child's wedding, happy to see them in love but sad to lose them. But it was amplified a hundred fold, more complex than anything she had ever known. It reminded her of…Angel.

Apparently, the others heard it too. Willow stepped forward, completely captivated. "What's that?"

Xander shook his head. "I…I don't know."

Dawn moved towards the sound, but a hand on her shoulder stopped her. Arwen looked at her with knowing eyes. "Dawn…"

Dawn didn't know what to be shocked by more…the magical voice or the fact that Arwen had called her by her real name. But the look Arwen gave her made her sure…she had to know.

She shook the hand off, pushed past Xander and Willow, and quietly hurried down the path towards the crossroads. As she neared the clearing of the crossroads, she slowed, making sure to be as quiet as possible, wanting to know who the voice belonged to. She sidled up next to a large mallorn and peeked carefully around…

And then she saw him.

It was Elrohir. He was sitting on the trunk of a smaller baby mallorn, nestled like a child where the trunk broke away into three large branches. He was looking at something in his hands, something she couldn't see clearly. But it was her eyes that captivated her. Those stormy eyes that usually held such hatred…were then soft. They were so sad, so longing. And Dawn almost gasped at the sight, for she knew in that moment that same longing, deep within her soul.

Willow, Xander, and Arwen's strong presences settled behind her, but Dawn paid them no heed. She was captured. She almost didn't dare breathe, mortally afraid to break the spell. But she felt compelled to join the Elf, to sing the magical song along with him, in accompaniment, and to never again turn away. But she knew that if she moved, even an inch, she would not have the self-control she needed to stay out of sight and silent. But it was something she _needed_. And against everything she knew, everything she had been taught, everything she felt deep inside…she took that step. And the leaves softly crunched beneath her foot.

The flowing song stopped and sad, stormy eyes met hers. And Dawn felt that feeling again, that feeling she hadn't felt since the first day Elladan and Elrohir had nearly killed the three of them. That dizzying sense of wholeness. And something even more than that.

But then Xander coughed. And it was gone. Elrohir's steel wall was back in place. And Dawn's hatred burned again in her heart.

Elrohir stared hard at the group for several moments, then turned abruptly and stormed off.

Willow started after him. "No, wait--"

But he was already gone.

Dawn watched the wind follow the Elf, then spun on her heel to stare at the troubled Arwen. "What was he singing?"

Arwen frowned. "It's the last verse of the Song of Beren and Lúthien."

Xander shook his head, worried gaze darting from Arwen to Dawn and back again. "I…I couldn't understand it."

"It's not in the languages you know," Arwen replied shakily.

"It's pretty," Willow said quietly. "What does it mean?"

Arwen hesitated for a moment, then began to softly sing.

"Long was the way that fate them bore,

O'er stony mountains cold and grey,

Through halls of iron and darkling door,

And woods of nightshade morrowless.

The Sundering Sea between them lay,

And yet at last they met once more,

And long ago they passed away

In the forest singing sorrowless."

Finally, after several moments, Dawn looked up, eyes locking on Arwen, who had suddenly found the ground very interesting. "Arwen," Dawn said firmly, causing the elleth to look up. Her eyes were deep, as always, deep enough to lose oneself in, but Dawn held fast. She had to know. "Why do I get the feeling that this has to do with that weird shocky thing I felt when he touched me?"

Arwen didn't answer. Instead, she continued to hold Dawn's gaze, her eyes emotionless as she held her silence.

Willow sighed and put a comforting hand on the younger girl's shoulder. "Dawn--"

But Dawn would have none of it. She jerked away from Willow, whirling to confront all three of her friends. "Something is going on here, something that involves me."

Arwen took a deep breath, looking down at the ground. "I…"

It was at that moment that a very serious and concerned looking Elladan broke through the foliage to the left and grabbed his sister's hand. "Arwen, tolo."

(Come.)

Arwen nodded, then turned to the three humans. "We must speak with our brother."

Dawn watched Arwen disappear into the trees after her brothers, then sighed, continuing on the path that led to the river. "I really hate that no one will tell me anything."

"Oh, honey," Willow murmured sympathetically, wrapping an arm around the brunette's shoulders as she fell into step beside her. "Don't worry about it."

Dawn glanced behind them at Xander, who was following along quietly. He smiled uneasily and shrugged. She huffed and turned to Willow, who appeared more unsure than she sounded. "Don't worry about it?"

Willow grimaced and dropped her arm. "Well…"

"Dawn," Xander suddenly broke in, side-stepping the pair of girls and stopping to face Dawn seriously. "I know what is happening here. And I will share this information with you."

Dawn met his eye and stood straight. "Xander?"

Xander looked down at the forest floor and nodded. "Yes. But first you must bring me…a shrubbery!"

Dawn rolled her eyes and settled back into a slouching posture. Willow, though, pushed away the young man in frustration. "Xander!"

Xander stumbled away, smiling. He quickly caught himself and bounced proudly. "And then you must cut down the mightiest tree in the forest _with_…a herring!"

Dawn shot the one-eyed man a withering look. "Nee."

Willow pushed past her oldest friend, calling over her shoulder, "Xander, get off the Python kick."

Xander pouted, falling into step with Dawn a few paces behind the redheaded witch. "You two are no fun."

Willow shook her head as she pushed through a small patch of foliage and into a clearing. She glanced around the soft-lush green the led down to the clear rushing water of the Silverlode. She smiled sadly, stepping out of her boots to run her feet over the grass. "No…I just don't want anything to remind me of things I can't have anymore."

Xander snorted as he sat down next to Willow, immediately setting to work loosening the ties on his boots. "Yeah, right, and Giles' calendar will help bunches with that."

Dawn opened her mouth to add her two cents when she felt something warm on her upper lip. She then closed her mouth, only to have her taste buds overrun with a tangy metallic taste. She raised her right hand to her mouth and felt a wet, slightly sticky substance flow over her fingers. She pulled her hand away to see what she already knew would be there: a large amount of red sticky blood. "Oh! Ow! Nosebleed…"

Willow looked up at her and frowned. "Nosebleeds don't hurt."

Xander jumped up to his feet and quickly handed Dawn the barely used hanky from before. "Eew, Dawn, that looks like a gusher."

"Ick," Dawn whined as she allowed Xander to tilt her head backwards. A few moments later, she felt the spout in her nose slow to a small trickle. Keeping the piece of cloth in place under her nose, she hazarded a look down. Her hands and a bit of her dress were covered. "Oh. Eew. This day keeps getting better and better. I'm going to go wash off in the river."

"Yeah, good idea," Xander agreed, checking himself to find that he was miraculously clean. He plopped back down on the soft grass, joined soon by Willow. She smiled at him and he sighed. "I'm so bored."

"Uh…guys…"

They both turned to look at Dawn, who had reached the river. She turned and held up her blood-covered hands. The dark red liquid was crackling with small bolts of greenish-looking lightening.

Dawn's eyes were wide. She knew what was happening, as did Xander and Willow.

Willow drew a ragged breath. "Dawn, wash it off. Quick!"

Dawn nodded and started to turn back to the river when a very large, very concentrated bolt of greenish-blue lightening shot off of her hands and struck at a point in the sky. Green-blue light engulfed the clear day, nearly blinding the three friends. Somewhere in the back of her mind, carried over the howling of the wind, she heard a long, drawn-out scream. A scream that felt somehow familiar.

Than it was over. The blinding light was gone. And the bolt of green-blue lightening started to zip away towards the southeast.

They all watched in silence, gaping as the day turned sunny and cheerful once more. Then Willow smacked Xander. "Why the HELL did you say that?! Have you learned nothing?! You NEVER say that!!!"

And though the day was back to normal, in the far off horizon to the southeast, they could see a slight green glow. Xander grimaced. "Thaaat can't be good."


	21. Support Only a Sibling Could Give

Arwen POV

I have lived over two thousand years on this earth. And never have I lived more fully than I have in the last thirty. Not since I met Aragorn. Many of my days have melded together, time periods in my life that have a central theme of emotion. But that day thirty-one years ago, the day when I first saw him, is more clear than any of the hundreds of thousands of days before.

The moment I saw him, he who so foolishly called me Tinúviel, I knew that my fate might not be unlike my ancestress. We talked only briefly, yet the Man plagued my thoughts for years to come. Hatred, denial, longing, confusion. These were but some of the emotions I experienced, and as one of the Eldar who feel such things longer and heavier than most beings, I experienced them for a long time. But in the end, I knew. Especially when we touched. So strange that I knew this Man for twenty-nine years before we touched skin to skin. But the moment he touched me, I knew. He was my One, the single soul in all the world that could make my own soul whole. The lone soul I was Meant to spend all of my days with. I knew. I would never sail over the sea.

It is a hard burden to bear. I am who I am, though I know my fate. I will give up myself to be at Aragorn's side. I am an elleth, a she-Elf, one of the Eldar. The sea is in my veins. My people mean more to me than most will ever know. And my family…my family means everything to me. My mother, whom I know now I shall never see again., she was what every mother is and was to a good daughter. She was my life-giver, my world-molder, she taught me everything and gave me everything. And my father…he is my world. I have never known a life without him and I dread the day our paths will part. My grandparents I love. They have brought me nothing but joy. They complete me in ways I still do not fully understand. And my brothers are my strength. They are my best friends. They are the two beings that know me most of all.

And knowing all that I knew, having been through all that I had, having chosen between my people and my love, it was painful sitting beside my brothers that day we found Elrohir singing. The glen around us sparkled and, though it had changed in the thousands of years since we had made it our secret place together in our grandparents' wood, it was still a refuge from the world. But our hearts were heavy. I could almost feel the conflict emanating from my brother, and I wanted to soothe it away so badly. But I could not.

So I sat next to him, feet dangling from the large rock we had long-ago dubbed "the throne", and waited for him to tell me how to help him.

But Elrohir remained very quiet. Almost as if he was fighting a war within. And I knew that war all-too well. And I knew my hard-headed brother would never ask for my aid. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Elrohir did not even blink. He just continued to stare at the item in his hands. "No, I do not."

Elladan sighed and sat down on our brother's other side, watching him intensely. "You are my twin brother, Elrohir. We talk about everything."

Elrohir swallowed at that. And I knew. Not that I had not known before. But I knew, just as I had known thirty-one years ago. I could see it in his eyes. The truth was burning there and what I had feared was proven true. My brother had met his One. Elrohir, sensible, wise, cautious, and practical Elrohir, had found the one being who his soul was made for. And, like me and so many of our forebears before us, his One was a mortal.

My brother had met his One. And Elrohir's One was little Dawn Summers of Sunnydale, California.

"You should not treat her so," I whispered, not sure what to think.

Elladan did not react to this statement in any way. For he knew as well. He just nodded once in agreement, though I could see the torrid emotion behind his eyes. "We know now that you do not hate her."

And truly, he did not. He was not angry at her, for she was an innocent in all of this. He was angry with fate. As he had every right to be. He acted out against Meluiell, that everyone could see. Hurt her though it might have, I understood why he did it. He was confused. He did not understand it. He tried to deny it. But deny it all he might have, his One was a mortal girl who would age and die in Middle-Earth long before the last of the Eldar had sailed over sea.

I had to wonder that it all may have been a familial trait. It did seem that many of our family met the Ones they were Meant for, even when it was so rare a thing. My parents were Meant. My mother's parents were Meant. And of my father's line…his parents, Eärendil and Elwing, were Meant. Elwing's father's parents, Lúthien Tinúviel and Beren, son of Barahir, were probably the most infamous Meant couple of all.

And, then, it was down to Elrohir and I. Two of the three children of Elrond. Both having found our Ones, both of them mortal. A cruel twist of fate for our father, our brother, and all the rest of our kin.

"Elrohir, please talk to me," I pled, moving in front of him so that he had to see me. "I know what having a mortal One is like."

And, as it had been before with Meluiell, Elrohir's reaction was in anger. He stood abruptly, nearly causing me to fall, though he caught me before I did and pulled me up to face him. "Oh, that's what you think, is it?! My _One_!"

He pushed me away, and my heart broke, not from rejection, but because I could feel his pain, for I had lived it all before. Only I had been given a great gift indeed by the Valar. I had been given time. I had been given twenty-eight years between meeting Aragorn and having my suspicions, and touching him and knowing my suspicions to be true. Elrohir did not have the time I had between meeting Meluiell and touching her. In fact, he touched Meluiell before ever laying eyes on her. A shock it must have been, indeed. And the feelings he was having, they took me every last second of those twenty-eight years to learn to control them and move past them.

But Elrohir did not have that time. He had to face this and face it then, not nigh on thirty years later. And he was going to have my aid in this matter whether he wanted it or not. "Elrohir, you know what this means."

"Leave me, Arwen!" he nearly shouted back at me, his voice hick with pain and anger. "You might welcome your One though it mean death, but not I! I do not wish to forsake my heritage, my ways, or my very Immortality for some skinny, insipid, bug-eyed, pathetic excuse for a mortal _child_. I will not!"

Anger burned within me then, for as old and wise as my brother was, he was acting more like a child than Meluiell. So I did all that I could think to do. I smacked my brother's arm, hard. "Then stop trying to hurt her like you do! She has no control over what is happening, the same as you!"

Apparently, Elladan shared my sentiment, though his anger was more controlled than mine. "And what is more, she does not understand what is happening to her as you do."

I frowned at my brother, willing him to change his reaction to this doom. "As you said, she is a mortal child, a child who should not have to carry the burden of your hate."

And it was true. Meluiell did not understand what was happening to her. I knew she felt it. She had to have felt it. The longing for my brother. The need and want of him. Her body and spirit were responding to the nearness of her One, and she had no concept of what that meant for her.

Our grandmother knew. Yes, her wise eyes were ever watchful. She could see things where even the wisest men could not. She knew from the moment Dawn grabbed Elrohir's wrist that first time on Cerin Amroth. And since that day, the rumors had spread through Caras Galadhon like a wild fire on a dry summer day. Elladan had known that first day, as well. And I. Drúadan had taken a few weeks, but he had eventually understood. He was too well-studied not to recognize the signs. He had, after all, dealt with this sort of situation before with Eirien and the Angel-man she had loved so much. He feared for Meluiell, more than any father I had ever known, apart from my own. Even Willow and Xander had realized something was wrong with their sister. It had taken a long night of arguing and explanation with them to make them understand the situation and convince them not to tell Meluiell.

She was not prepared for this. She was so young, a child, even by the standards of her people. She had never even been able to think much of courting or had a first love, as she had told me. She had seen so much and been put through so many challenges. She was the Key, the bearer of great power. Not even a score of years upon the earth, and she was faced with this mightiest of all challenges: to be Meant for an immortal.

And we all knew what that meant. Even Willow and Xander.

Elladan watched his twin with desperate eyes. "Be reasonable, brother."

I knew that as hard as this was for me, it was only that much more difficult for Elladan. First he lost me, his baby sister to mortal love. Then, his twin, his second-halve had been claimed. Though I knew that, if Elrohir went through with his Meaning with Dawn, the chance was that he would fade away long before my relationship with Aragorn even ever truly took root. As I understood, Meluiell had a very short time left to walk the world, a mere sixty or seventy years at best. Unless my father's fears had some foundation…

"Many people who find their Ones do not bind themselves to them," Elladan continued, breaking my chain of thought. "You know Thoronathion back home is bound to Fingalan. And his One is Tulunelle."

I raised my eyebrows, surprised. Thoronathion and Fingalan were close friends of my family and I had not known this. They had only lived in Rivendell for a thousand years, having come there together from the South with Fingalan's family when they had sailed. And I had met Tulunelle once, before she had sailed. I had understood her to be a close friend of Thoronathion's certainly not his One.

Apparently, Elrohir was as in the dark as I. "Truly?"

"Thoronathion and Tulunelle were raised together in Edhellond as best friends, unaware that the closeness they shared was anything more," Elladan explained quickly. "When the truth was discovered, they decided to be friends only and not sacrifice their friendship or the love they had found in their other mates."

Not as shocking as others would suspect. Such stories were not uncommon among the Eldar. Many times, most chose not to bind themselves to their One. To bind yourself to the One you are Meant for was a very intense experience. Something not to be taken lightly. Many throughout history had found the relationship too intense to adapt to and decided they could not go through with such a commitment. I sometimes wondered if I not ought to take that path with Aragorn.

"Talk with Meluiell," I found myself urging. "She will understand, I am sure of it. Then maybe the two of you can be civil with one another and give all the rest of us some peace."

Elrohir saw through my veil with ease. He smiled slightly, nudging me playfully with his elbow. "And why do you not talk with Estel? If you want me to give up my One and sail West, why do you not?"

I frowned hard at my brother. "This is not about Aragorn and I."

He sighed and shook his head, though his small smile remained. "I will think on it. And you, my sister, if you claim the girl as friend, maybe you should let her know why she feels compelled towards me. Maybe then there would be a bit more of this peace you speak of."

If that was what it took, then I would readily agree. I beamed at my brothers and they both grinned back at me. Maybe. Maybe a peace could be made.

All of it had so many implications, so many consequences, yet a strange thought occurred to me: Strange that a soul from one world could be Meant for a soul of another.

Suddenly, green lightening interrupted my serious thoughts. Lightening I had heard tale of before.

Elrohir squinted at the Eastern horizon as it began to glow the same green as the lightening. "What is that?"

I shook my head slowly, unsure of what to think. "I do not know."

"Hmm," Elladan mumbled, watching the Eastern sky grow dark once more. "Is this a good sign?"

Elrohir cast a dark look towards the direction the lightening had been and sighed, his smile melting to a frown. "Where those three are concerned and in these dark times…I doubt it."


	22. Too Much Ale

A/N: Again, this isn't the best chapter, mainly because I had real problems writing the "Ranger" bits. I don't know why, because writing Aragorn isn't hard. Maybe it's the setting, I don't know. Just didn't spark any fun vibes for me. So you'll have to forgive me.

It was burning. Heat and fire, through her skin, down to her soul and past it. She couldn't breathe for the sweat and smoke, but she lived on. The fires burned, but there was barely any light, none to pierce the black shadow that hung around her like a curtain. The feeble light that seemed to come from her was just enough to catch a clawed, metal hand, a flash of shriveled, gray skin, and piercing gray eyes.

"Slayer."

She could hear the crunch of heavy boots falling upon the earth. She could feel the smoldering roar created by the fires. She could smell the stench of death around her.

"Tarry not with those that do not understand your greatness."

She turned, eyes searching the black void for some hint of the creature here with her. "Who are you?"

"Come."

The shadows all around were moving, shifting into form and mass.

"Join."

They stepped forward out of the blackness, all rotting, all dead. Eyes moving over her demanding why she hadn't saved them. "No…"

"You must."

They stared at her, asking a million questions, demanding that she answer. Looks of betrayal…

"Join now or rip others from happiness."

Looks of pain…all that she caused.

Wesley's eyes, blue in life but clouding over in darkness in death, stayed on her, so sad, so desperate. "Buffy, please. Please, help us."

"Don't do this to us," Andrew added, falling to his bony knees in what appeared to be hopelessness.

Angel gazed at her longingly, reaching forward a hand that seemed close to falling off. "Buffy, you have to fix this. You have to make the world right."

Anya wrapped her arms around herself, rocking slowly on her feet. "There is no life in the void."

Tara's eyes were knowing as she looked into hers, knowing of sorrow. "Only death."

"Your death, Slayer," Cordelia whispered as she pointed a bloody finger at her. "The death of us all."

Her mother was there, just as dead as the others, just as alone. "You condemn the world."

"Slayer. Come. Join."

Then they were gone, taken away by the roar of the wind. She fell to her knees in despair of it all. It was her fault, they were doomed, and she couldn't reach them, couldn't make them understand. It was hopeless.

"East…east…east…east…"

Back to home, back to them, family and friends of another age, out of reach of time. And to save them would be a saving grace for her, a dooming blow to life everywhere.

"Wake up, Slayer."

She couldn't let them go, not now, not like that. It wasn't right, it wasn't fair, it _wasn't her fault_!

"Your allegiance is not to them."

And again the shadows to her left came alive, happy and healthy and smiling down on her, over her, above her. Tool to them and nothing more, lowly being in a corrupt world. Pointy ears a person make, all others an animal with no right to happiness, save those who would be royal. And Aragorn raised his goblet to her. Arwen did not extend her hand. Haldir sneered mockingly. Elrond stared with cold eyes. Gandalf shook his head. Celeborn stepped back. Galadriel turned away.

"It is to them."

The shadows to the right parted, scenes more heart-wrenching than all others haunting her. Xander was on his stomach in the dirt, held down by something she could not see. Willow was huddled against a cold rock, filthy, starved, and fearful. Giles was in shackles, beaten down even more than when he had been tortured by Angel. Spike was struggling on his back, the life being choked from him by some invisible force. Faith was on her knees, crying for the first time she had ever seen. And Dawn was kneeling in the middle of all, watching her with desperate eyes.

"Buffy…please…"

"Buffy, wake up!"

Buffy Summers slowly raised her eyelids, trying to think why in the world they would feel like they weighed a hundred pounds. Everything was bright. Too bright. The piercing kind of bright the stabbed through her eyes and straight into her head, where it wiggled around and danced the lively bops of Riverdance. Her brain seemed to extend out into the great beyond and her head seemed double the size it had been just the previous day. And her mouth felt like she head eaten a live rabbit, cottontail and all. She groaned and began to roll over in her bed, but stopped almost immediately when the world started rolling along with her.

"Wake up, Buffy."

Squinting at the harsh light filtering into the room, Buffy looked up. Standing over her bed was a rough looking man with such a gentle expression on his face that seemed to go against his very nature. "Aragorn?"

"And me!"

Buffy winced back as Faith popped into her line of sight, declaring her presence much more loudly than was necessary. And from the look on her face she knew it…and enjoyed it. "Rise and shine, B."

Using her left arm, Buffy propped herself up into a sitting position on the bed. Immediately, she wished she hadn't. "Ugh…"

Beside her, Aragorn chuckled. "I do not believe that I have ever seen someone so small consume so much ale. A mighty feat indeed."

Buffy turned to look up at him through half-closed eyes. "Shut up."

Aragorn bit back a grin and gave her a good-hearted pat on the shoulder. "Come, we must hurry. A band of Orcs has been spotted traveling towards the Chetwood."

Buffy groaned loudly. They had been in Bree for nearly two weeks, actually opting to stay indoors, a real rarity for the foursome. And Buffy was not quite ready to give up the luxurious pleasure of the goose-feather mattress. Even for the three towns of good people currently being threatened in Chetwood.

She sighed, knowing it was hopeless. "All right, I'm coming, I'm coming."

She rolled out of her nice warm, soft, comfortable bed and thumped butt-first onto the hardwood floor. Then she groped around with her eyes half-closed against the morning light for her boots, all she lacked besides her over-tunic and coat since she was already fully dressed. Somewhere above her she heard a chuckle, then a weight in her lap as someone let her boots drop into it. Then Faith's mocking voice came to her ears. "B, you've got about half-an-hour."

Buffy blinked her eyes open, and nodded her appreciation to the smirking Slayer making her way out of the room with the Heir of Númenor. "Thanks for giving me the time to come down."

Faith snorted loudly as she shoved Aragorn out the door. "Nah, we don't care if you fight shit-faced with one arm tied behind your back, it'll just take that long to find Spike."

Buffy made a face as she pulled her right boot on, only to find that it was her left boot. "Lovely."

"Meetcha downstairs," Faith said as she swung the door to the room all four shared shut.

Buffy moved her let foot to what she now knew was her left boot and pulled it on. Then she grabbed the remaining boot and shoved her right foot down into it, careful of the knife hidden within the seam. Then she faced the most daunting task she had faced in the past several weeks. Getting to her feet.

She decided on the old tried and true method of waking up with a hangover: use everything else for support. So, using the bed frame, little by little she started to pull herself up. It was slow going. Several times there was a real possibility that everything inside would come up faster than the outside was going. But eventually, the Slayer found herself standing unsteadily on both her feet, even though she was clutching to the bed as if it were her lifeline.

Using the same method on the nightstand, the door, the large candlestick in the hall, the old Man two doors down, and the stair rail, Buffy eventually found herself dropping down onto one of the chairs in front of the bar in the pub area of the inn.

The barmaid, a middle-aged Woman that hated Buffy and Faith more than anyone Buffy had ever seen, being as they weren't proper ladies, as if the old hag was one herself, was wiping down glasses used in the last night's revelry. Seeing Buffy in such a state, she grinned her toothless grin at Buffy, stepping over to greet the Slayer good morrow in what would probably be some very painful or humiliating way. "Eirien, did you have a nice sleep?"

Suddenly an old, gruff Man was at her side, wild gray hair curling up off his head as he glared the girl down. "I'd say not, Charlena, so leave the girl be and get up those stairs to clean the rooms, or you'll be having no supper tonight."

The Woman blanched and quickly scurried off to do her job. Buffy smiled slightly at the elderly Man, the owner of the noble establishment, The Prancing Pony. "Thanks, Rutherford."

The gruff Man nodded once, then motioned for the young teen clearing the breakfast plates off the tables nearby over to them. "Barly, bring the lady Ranger something to cure her ails."

Buffy grinned at the young boy who had inherited his grandfather's wild hair. And he, having long had a crush on Buffy since she had first visited The Prancing Pony the year before, smiled back at her. She reached over and tousled his already wild hair good-naturedly. "Hiya, Barly."

"Miss Eirien," Barly replied with a smile and blush, trying in vain to smooth the hair down a bit. "How ya doin'?"

Buffy tried to be positive, really. But her stomach would have none of that. "Bad."

Barly chuckled and reached under the bar, retrieving the three kinds of liquor served last night and placing them before the blonde Slayer. "Which was it?"

"Ulgh," Buffy choked as she faced her enemy. Then she laid her head against the bar, pointing vaguely at the bottle on the left. "That."

She heard a few footsteps then the tinkling of glass. Every sound was magnified, and Buffy was suddenly very thankful that fate had planned for her to be in the pub between the morning and afternoon rushes. She breathed in deep, letting the aroma of the old wood and home cooking overtake her. She loved The Prancing Pony, if not for the way it just smelled. Not in the evening, when all the filth covered travelers in the surrounding area crowded into the cramped, usually hot pub, drinking all kinds of swill, sometimes letting it come back up. At those times, the stench was barely bearable. But in the morning, when no one but the few workers and maybe one or two of the guests that genuinely had nowhere else to be where the only people in the Inn, and the pub had been cleaned from top to bottom for the night to come…that was when it smelled like Buffy remembered home should smell. Or as close as anything on Middle-Earth got.

It hadn't been three months since Aragorn had proclaimed the three of them, that is, Spike, Faith, and herself, ready for the world at large. Yet everything was so different. Oh, they were still traveling with Aragorn. But he was no longer their teacher. Instead, Aragorn was now their equal, and he treated them as such. Every decision made was made by the group. Every whim of the hopefully future King's was not something they always acted on. They worked well together, were all great friends, and they were fast becoming a team.

But she was not happy. And she was slowly starting to come to terms with the fact that she would never be.

A small clank of metal against wood announced the Barly was finished with whatever he was concocting. Buffy looked up at the mug, hesitant to even look at the liquid she knew was churning about within. Barly was easily the best hangover fix-man that she had ever met, but she had quickly found that the ingredients to his cures were better off unknown.

She glanced up at the boy proudly standing before her, waiting for his instructions. He nodded his encouragement. "This'll fix ya right up, then. Simply drain it as fast as you can. No stopping."

Buffy reached into her pocket and fished out a small silver coin, flipping it towards the boy with one hand as she grabbed the mug with the other. "Thanks, Barly."

Barly nodded, then placed the money back on the bar, as he always did with Buffy. He shook her head and opened her mouth to protest, but was silenced with a look from him. "As always, Miss Eirien, it is me pleasure."

Buffy nodded, raised the mug to her open mouth, pinched her nose, and started choking the thick, viscous fluid back as fast as she could. She refused to let her mind register the taste, for she had the sneaking suspicion that the taste would closely resemble molded strawberries mixed with gasoline.

She grimaced and slammed the empty mug back onto the bar, coughing the last of the cold sludge down. Barly grinned and took the empty mug from her, raising an eyebrow in interest. "Well?"

Buffy stuck out her tongue and, as she had come to expect, the world became slightly less fuzzy and a bit more permanent. The splitting migraine was toned down a bit and the uneasy feelings her stomach had been radiating were completely gone. She smiled and nodded at the boy. "As always, much better."

He blushed and looked down, then dared to raise his eyes a bit higher as he looked at her in awe. "Not that you could get much better, Miss Eirien."

Buffy giggled slightly and reached up to tousle the boy's hair, though he moved away quickly to avoid it. She laughed and sat back down in her seat, letting the boy's wonder drink work it's magic. "You're sweet as sugar, kid."

"Not as sweet as me, I hope."

Barly stiffened and his smile became tight as Spike slid into the space next to Buffy's seat. Buffy's smile lost its edge, too. As much as Barly liked the blonde, it was well known to the foursome that he disliked Spike, Faith, and Aragorn even more. It was the typical mistrust of the Bree-folk, but a bit magnified with the boy's general dislike of the strange trio as well.

"Master Erniethan," Barly greeted civilly. He motioned to the store of drinks behind him. "Can I get you anything?"

Spike scoffed at the boy's reaction and shook his head. "Don't worry, Barly. Just picking up my sister. I'll cause no trouble."

Buffy nodded to Barly as she stood and turned to Spike. He motioned with his head towards the street entrance and Buffy moved to follow. It was still a bit warm even though autumn had begun a few weeks ago so she let her coat and over-tunic remain up in her room where she had left them. She simply hitched her pants up higher, rolled the long sleeves of her shirt up and stepped out into the sunlight.

Bree was bustling. Everywhere, people were preparing for the end of season harvest festival that the Bree-folk hosted annually. Everywhere, people were running around, mostly well-known faces, though they scowled at the pair, known to all as familiar foreigners. Buffy smiled as she watched the Blacksmith help a wealthy farmer from Archet raise a turnip as large as a small boulder up from the ground and over to a very ornate display stand five feet tall. The people all around were clapping, some commenting on "the largest damned turnip we've ever had".

Spike just rolled his eyes, though she knew he loved it. The sociable town festivals were events that connected him solely with the past, as towns in the twenty-first century rarely did anything beyond a county fair or public drunken brawl.

Buffy looked past all the activity, eyes searching for the two forms missing from their quartet, but finding no hint of the elusive duo that had awakened her. She turned to Spike, eyeing the ex-vampire with mistrust. "Where's Faith and Strider?"

"Here!"

Buffy stiffened and whirled around to find the Slayer and Ranger behind her, each leading a pair of horses behind them. Buffy scowled and grabbed the reigns of Shit, her own horse, from the brunette woman's hand, pulling the steed closer to her, shooting Faith a dark look. "Fuck it, Faith! I'll let you do this by your own damn self!"

Spike took a step back towards Manchester and as far from Buffy as he could get without leaving the group, eying her carefully. "What's got your knickers in a twist, Slayer?"

Buffy gave Spike a withering look as she pulled herself up into the saddle on Shit, something she accomplished with much more grace than she had the first time she had attempted to clamber onto the creature so many years ago. Faith smirked knowingly as she slung herself onto Hwest's back.

Spike looked to Aragorn for some help. Aragorn just grinned as he pulled himself onto his own stallion, Valandil. He looked over at Spike once the ex-vampire had mounted Manchester, then motioned with his head to Buffy. "Eirien enjoyed herself and her drink a bit much last night. We may soon have to begin acting like the guardians Men assume we are."

"Yeah, right," Faith muttered, casting the two males a dark look as she kicked Hwest into a trot. "You'll get a black eye before I ever ask for your permission to do a goddamn thing."

Aragorn outright laughed and Spike raised his eyebrows tauntingly as they both followed Faith, Spike purring lowly, "Is that a threat, Gidget?"

Faith clucked her tongue thoughtfully. "That's a promise, Fangless."

Spike pursed his lips as they road through the Eastern Gate, then broke out into a small smile. "You shouldn't say things…"

Buffy tuned out the bickering pair as they road out on the Great East Road, herself taking up the rear. Faith and Spike could go for hours when left unchecked, and when checked only refocused their energies on the person fool enough to interrupt them. And Aragorn, well, the Man sometimes reminded her of Angel since he shared her old lover's ability to brood without end. Usually, she would spend any free travel time they had either joining in with Faith and Spike, making her own conversation or argument with the two, or trying to break Aragorn from the dark mood that overcastted his demeanor like a cloud.

That day, the nightmare from the night before hung over Buffy like a cold, wet blanket. It was her worst fear, not being able to save her friends. And it had brought up something that had plagued her their first year in Middle-Earth, but had slowly started to slip away the more time they had been there: were they being used by these people.

She knew they weren't. She knew it in her heart. She knew she could trust the Elves, Gandalf, and Aragorn just as much as she could trust Dawn, Spike, Willow, Xander, Giles, Faith…even more than she had trusted Angel. But it was still something that worried her from time to time. And the nightmare…it just fueled her doubts.

And the uncertain future. It frightened her even more. It was because of that future that her previous unfounded fear existed. After more than three years, Middle-Earth still felt foreign to her. And she couldn't help but hate the fact that she and her friends were dependent upon others for survival. Oh, she, Spike, and Faith were at that point more than capable of taking care of themselves in the familiar territory of Eriador. But she knew that if they cut off their ties to everyone, none of them would be able to provide shelter, food, or other necessities needed to survive for anything long-term. They wouldn't be able to provide like that on their own for years. Not for themselves. And certainly not when she factored Dawn, Giles, Willow, and Xander into the problem. Maybe never.

It was frustrating…and a little disheartening. No matter how hard they worked, they would never be able to pull themselves up on their own. At least, not legitimately. Then again, Willow and Dawn's magic combined with Spike's gambling abilities and Giles' knack for numbers…they could probably make a pretty good illegitimate living whenever they felt the need.

But that dream…there was something else about it. Something that led East…

"Hey, B, back me up!"

Buffy blinked several times looking to her companions. "Huh?"

Faith, Spike, and Aragorn were several paces ahead of her and the entire group seemed to be a few miles from Bree. Buffy blinked again. _When had that happened?_ She looked up at her companions and found them all stopped, staring back at the blonde in concern.

Spike examined her carefully, his expression one of worry. "All right, Buffy, what gives?"

"What?" Buffy asked, head still a bit fuzzy. "Oh, uh…nothing. Nightmare."

Faith reared Hwest back a little, giving the blonde a quick once-over. "B, you okay?"

Buffy nodded and gave them a smile. "Yeah, fine."

Aragorn said nothing as Buffy road past him to join her friends. But she could feel those annoying eyes on her.

Spike, though, nodded once, satisfied that they would get nothing more from Buffy short of torturing it out of her. He started back down the road again, Buffy trotting along beside him. "C'mon, then. I want to get this over with."

Faith snorted as she led Hwest to fall into step behind Manchester. "Did we interrupt something, Spike?"

Spike gave her an incredulous look. "You know, the women here are more like the sort from my own time. They have a certain spark that I've…missed."

Faith rolled her eyes, shooting Aragorn a pointed look before turning her attention back to Spike. "Yeah, they think you should act like you're better than them."

Buffy suddenly frowned, an entirely new and disturbing thought forming in her mind. "Spike, you're human. Please remember that the next time you come across a diseased filled whore."

Faith broke out into laughter behind them. "Yeah, the clap is bad enough without any treatment, let alone something more…lethal."

Spike sputtered indignantly. "I'm not going to get syphilis. Only Chubs contracts that."

Buffy watched her still recently human friend, more than a bit worried. "Hope not, cause we ain't taking care of you. We'll just dump you off on the side of the road."

Faith nodded at something on up the road as she appeared on the ground between Manchester and Shit. "Let them have their way with you."

"Ah," Aragorn murmured as he fingered the hilt of the blade at his waist. He dismounted Valandil and stared at the creatures regarding the group skittishly. "It seems we have found our prey."

Buffy gazed at the "party" of Orcs in disbelief. There were three of them. Three! And all looked so sickly that she had her own doubts whether or not a child could dispatch them. "That? That's the big group of Orcs that had to be defeated now or else certain doom would fall upon all of Chetwood thus making it crucial for me to get up out of bed at the butt-crack of dawn with a roaring hangover?!"

Aragorn blinked as he regarded her seriously. "Yes."

Buffy glared at him. "I loathe you."

Before either of them could end their staring contest, Spike popped up between them with one of the Orcs securely grasped in front of him. "Just shut it and kill this one, would you?"

Buffy looked up to see Faith slitting the throat of the second Orc, the third already dead on the ground. Buffy rolled her eyes and grabbed at her waist, pulling the first weapon she found free. She plunged the wooden stake deep into the Orc's chest, instinctively hitting the heart.

Spike dropped the creature expertly to the ground in such a way that the black blood didn't splatter on any of them. He glanced up at Buffy as she wiped the wooden weapon of on the side of her pants. "You know, Slayer, as vile as Orcs are, they aren't the undead."

"Instincts," Buffy said with a shrug. "Plus, it's dead. What do you care how I do it?"

Spike crossed his arms before his chest as he took a very defensive stance. "Well, I can't help but be a bit jumpy when I see you with those. Instincts."

Faith stepped between the two, already intent on heading back for Bree. "Stake through the heart will kill just about anything."

Buffy suddenly grinned as she grabbed Shit's reigns, settling on walking to try and burn some of the energy she had been gathering on the way down for their impending "battle". "Yeah, Spike, remember that the next time you meet some skanky ho in the middle of the square. We might be watching."

Spike scoffed and called after the blonde Slayer. "Yeah, and I might be watching the next time we run into Adelgar, Buff."

Faith burst into laughter. Buffy felt her face warming as she rounded on her sister-Slayer. "Shut up, _Rossell_, or I'll have a talk with Haldir about you and Orophin."

This effectively silenced Faith.

Behind them all, Aragorn sighed. "Do I have to hear this?"

As one, all three turned and replied, "Yes."

Faith snorted. "Just because Arwen won't give you any doesn't mean we have to be sad and lonely and repressed."

Buffy nodded her agreement. "I have never in my entire life met a guy that was willing to remain all pure for, like, thirty some years while trying to prove himself to his girlfriend's father."

Spike smirked. "It must be love."

Aragorn smiled slightly to himself, gazing intently at the road before them. "Arwen and I…make our own fun, as you say."

"Oh, really?" Buffy said, more than a bit surprised at what the usually conservative Ranger had just revealed. Arwen was more than just a touchy subject with the Man and he never answered their questions, let alone volunteer information himself. "Do tell."

Aragorn just shook his head. "A gentleman never tells."

"I sure hope not," Faith muttered, looking from Aragorn to Spike.

Buffy shot the brunette Slayer a confused look. She knew Faith didn't have any feelings for Aragorn, and she was usually the one taunting him with Arwen. She shook her head, not caring, then turned back to the more experienced Ranger. "Is that it for the day?"

"For the day," Aragorn confirmed. "But I received a message from Rivendell this morning. For all of us."

Faith nodded, producing a slip of parchment from inside her shirt. Spike grabbed it before Buffy could react. Faith rolled her eyes and turned to Buffy. "Big bad sightings further out West."

"West?" Buffy repeated. She knew what was West of Bree. The Ring. It was something they had hidden very carefully from Aragorn, but they had made it a point to check up on the state of the Shire more than once. Buffy chose her words and confused tone carefully. "In the midget lands?"

"The Shire?" Faith corrected, with a knowing glint in her eyes. She shook her head once and Buffy felt an enormous relief lift from her chest. They still had time. "No. West and North."

Spike snorted. "What is there worth saving there?"

"Duh, Spike," Buffy said, a bit proud that she had put two and two together before him, even though he had the message. "The roads to the Grey Havens go right through there."

Spike nodded grimly and turned to Aragorn. "Ah, Elrond asking a favor?"

"Yes," Aragorn confirmed with a slight nod of his head. "It would seem that a good bulk of the Elven warriors are North at the High Pass. Those that there are will be needed for the protection of Imladris. And his sons, it would seem, are spending time with their mother's relatives."

Buffy couldn't help the grin that was slowly forming. She had heard a great deal about the sons of Elrond in her time with Aragorn. The Heir of Númenor loved the two strange Elves, and Buffy could only imagine the pair with her friends. "The twin sons of Elrond are in Lothlórien?"

Aragorn grinned, his thoughts apparently the same as hers. "It would seem."

Faith chuckled slightly to herself. "Oh, Xander and a pair of troublemakers I have to see."

"I'd rather not," Spike murmured as he scanned the letter a second time, something not right with the expression on his face. "Buffy, this talks about the Nibblet. Vaguely."

Buffy whirled around to Aragorn, looking to him for an explanation. His grin was gone. "Elrond mentioned something about your sister in his letter, Eirien."

"Dawn?" Buffy repeated nervously. "What about her?"

"It was not clear," Aragorn replied, and Buffy could tell instantly that he was lying. He knew more than that. "Simply that she is having troubles."

"Great," Faith muttered sarcastically. "When were we planning on heading back East?"

Spike shook his head. "Not at least for a few more years."

"Shit," the brunette replied simply.

Buffy sighed. She loved her sister more than anything. If she was having a problem, than it was her duty to take care of her. But she couldn't let her friends go help the Elves pass West alone. Finally she decided on a course of action. "Well, that's it. I'm going out."

Spike raised an eyebrow in surprise. "What are you going to do?"

"What I always do in times of crisis," Buffy replied.

"Get drunk?" Faith asked, confused.

The blonde shook her head. "Shop."

Faith sighed. "So this is our lives now, huh? Go out, kill things, crash somewhere and get drunk?"

Spike laughed. "Not so different from Earth, huh?"

Buffy shrugged. "Maybe not."

At that exact moment, Buffy felt something pass through her. Something indescribable. Something that felt powerful and familiar and wrong all at once.

Faith stopped in her tracks and blinked. "Whoa."

Spike turned to the East and Buffy felt herself doing the same, for that was where it started, she knew. Spike scanned the horizon, eyes alert. "Did you feel that?"

Aragorn scowled slightly as he looked all around them. "I feel nothing."

Buffy shook her head. "I did."

"Better question," Faith said, voice little more than a whisper. "Do you guys see that?"

And Buffy did see it. It was so faint, so distant, she could barely make it out. But it was there. That familiar green haze flashing quickly beyond the mountains, barely visible to them so far away.

Aragorn took a small step forward, eyes watching the exact same spot all three of them were. "That I see."

Spike clucked his tongue, deep in thought. "Yeah."

Aragorn was truly amazed as the green haze vanished. "I've never seen anything like it before."

Buffy felt cold inside. "We have."

"That tears it."

They all three turned to see Spike pulling himself up onto Manchester. They were all confused. Faith cocked her head. "Spike?"

"I'm going back to Lórien," Spike replied simply.

Buffy felt her eyes widen. "Now?!"

The former vampire simply nodded. "I have to speak with Xander and Willow and I've put it off for far too long."

Faith looked at the message Spike still had in his hands. "But--"

"I'll check on Dawn for you, Buffy," Spike replied turning Manchester so that he could pass the message down to Aragorn. "Meet the three of you within the year. I'm sure you could go find some Rangers to help you out protecting the Tower Hills, but I simply have to do this."

Aragorn nodded his understanding. "If you feel the need to visit with your kin, Spike, I will not protest. It has been years since you last saw them."

"Two," Faith clarified in a far off voice.

Buffy shook her head. "Two years, four months, and ten days."

Faith smiled. "Miss 'em, B?"

Buffy nodded. "More than you."

Spike gave Manchester a once over. Buffy knew what he was checking for. And everything that belonged to him was secured in its place on his horse. He had learned not to leave anything behind the year before when he had left his Bow of the Galadhrim at their camp only to be forced to leave it when they had found themselves in hot pursuit of a pack of goblins.

Buffy sighed and dropped her hand to her change purse. She grabbed it, knowing Spike would need it more than she if he was going to travel straight through. She tossed it up to him.

He caught it easily, sighing when he saw what he held in his hand. He reached down and took Buffy's right hand in his own. "Meet you in Rivendell, one year from today?"

"Rivendell," Buffy repeated with a nod. "Yeah, that sounds fun. Been awhile."

Faith bit her lip, then tossed her own change purse to the blonde man. "Nothing's really wrong, is it, Spike?"

"I'm not sure," Spike said, looking towards the West. "But that's what I need to find out."

A/N: I had to grin when some ppl (Yes, Briana, you) reviewed and told me I was evil for using the same cliffhanger twice, 'cause I knew this cliffhanger was already here. Made me smile. Don't worry, we're back to Lórien and the reaction to whatever the hell happened with Dawn next chapter.


	23. Breaking In Two

Elrohir POV

"I have had about all the shocks I can stand. Green lightening! Whoever heard of green lightening?!"

I breathed evenly and deeply as before the entire assembly gathered Haldir ranted and raved, arms thrown up to the sky. He was not happy. Though he was rarely moved from his foul disposition, I had not seen him react to anything this severely since I had arrived in Caras Galadhon for this particular visit. Not even when young Xander had enticed Elladan and I to raid the marchwarden's underclothing.

The rest of those gathered waited for the Elf to finish his tirade, most less patiently than I. The air of the room was heavy. This omen was not a welcome one. We were all gathered together in the large dining flet in my grandparent's talan. My grandmother and grandfather were deep in thought, as was Drúadan, though he was much more open with his concern. My brother was seated at my left along the far end of the flet, my sister at my right. Willow was settled back in the seat at the closer end of the long table. Xander was leaning against a supporting pilaster directly across from my siblings and I. And sitting beside him, confused and nervous, was the reason for all, Meluiell.

She was almost huddled in her chair, tucked into a corner of the flet. Her eyes wide and only widening as Willow berated Haldir as he paced erratically in front of her. "You've seen it before."

Meluiell smiled a bit, especially when Haldir suddenly whirled around to face the redhead and gave her a look that would have chilled the heart of even the bravest of the Galadhrim. "And look at what we got from that."

Willow simply replied, "You should be so lucky as to get more of us."

I fought back a smile as well. It was almost amusing to see a mortal child ignore the dangerous marchwarden of Lórien. But she knew as well as I that Haldir thought of them as young siblings, almost children in a way. She had nothing to ever fear from the ill-tempered Elf.

Drúadan sighed, appearing frustrated, then knelt in front of Meluiell. "Dawn, what did you do?"

She looked up at him timidly and almost defensively drew her hands around herself. "I swear, I didn't do anything. Ask Xander and Willow. They were right there."

Xander loomed protectively over her, his shadow falling at her lap, casting a small barrier between her and the rest of the flet. "It's true. She just got this sudden nosebleed."

Drúadan took a deep breath, his mortal mind working through all that was said at a speed that still sometimes amazed me. An instant later, he was looking at the girl evenly once more, while I was still pondering the meaning of this green lightening. "Even so, you must have willed something."

Her clear blue eyes quickly darted up then down again in a sign of her exasperation. She was quickly tiring of the attention being on her. I could feel it. "Yeah," she grunted, long fingers clutching in a strong grip at the edges of her dirty dress. She looked Drúadan in the eye defiantly. "A clean bath. A portal forming was the last thing I wanted. Besides, the portal opened, like, way up in the sky. I can't do that. We've tried."

"The portal was only open for a split second, Giles," Willow broke in. "I think something was controlling it."

"A dark presence entered the wood today," my grandmother added. "I had hoped it was just an Orc…but it was strong."

Meluiell's gaze fell to the floor, eyes seeing something far beyond it. "That scream…there was something about it…something so familiar…"

I watched as she searched herself, trying to find the answer she was blindly seeking. I wondered for a moment why I cared. I knew the girl was my One, yes, from the very moment I had grabbed her wrist that fateful day upon Cerin Amroth. I cared little for her, hated her for being what she was. Yet I for some reason found myself watching her.

It was then that I realized how at that moment, throughout the entire length of the gathering in truth, that I desired the young girl before me. I cursed myself silently, for I had vowed since that first day that I would not let myself be drawn into this perversion that had so suddenly seized my life. To think, I, Elrohir, son of Elrond Half-Elven, an Elf of over twenty-eight hundred years, was lusting for some mortal child of less than one score old…it was unfathomable.

Yet she was beautiful to me in that moment. Her looks, no male anywhere would have denied her loveliness. But I saw so much more of her than I ever had during that gathering. Her guard, which was usually so securely woven around her when she was in my presence, was gone. For the first time, I saw her completely open.

The debate continued on around me, heatedly at some moments, but I paid it no heed. For she suddenly, but very slowly and gracefully, raised her eyes to meet mine.

I broke my vow that day. I did it consciously. When her eyes met mine, I desired to just for one moment be swallowed by the connection we shared, to just let my heart feel all the things it so desperately wanted to feel for her and more. So, for just a few moments, I decided to break my vow. I would love her, if only for a moment.

It was more consuming then I ever imagined it could be. In all my long years, I had never felt anything like what I felt then. I opened my soul to her as I held her gaze, and she just stared at me in the glory of it all. And as I knew she could see all of me in my eyes, I saw all of her. Her youth, her innocence, that which I knew was there, but had never before been so endearing to me. Her confusion, her pain, that which I had suspected to be in her, but had never known the full measure. Her wisdom, her strength…that which shocked me and lit within me a fire that the flames of Orodruin would have been hard-pressed to match.

She blinked, so slowly it was as if time was standing still. A small tear rolled down her pale cheek. And I knew she loved me though she knew not the reason why. And she knew I loved her. And she wept for the pain she saw in me. I finally realized in my soul then…she was a maid worthy of great honor.

I knew then…then I loved her. And I would love her every day unto the end of all things.

The choice my father had passed down to my sister, my brother, and I…the Eldar or the race of Men…a choice that had seemed clear for all my long life…was suddenly very uncertain.

"You can't expect us to just do nothing!"

Those few precious moments, ones I would have given almost anything to live within, were suddenly gone. My gaze shot to the very angry Drúadan, who seemed to be facing off with my frustrated grandfather. I quickly glanced back to Meluiell, but she was focused on the scene before her, as were all the other eyes in the room. With no small measure of relief, I noted that no one had noticed what had transpired between the girl and I. Something I was very grateful for.

My grandmother was trying to be the mediator of all. "I see no path that will lead us to what we want to know. For whatever reason that portal was opened, it is now done. If something was brought through that portal, I would have known. I sense no malice or evil having come through. All I felt was malice entering the wood, the power surge, then innocence. Everything would seem to be as it should."

"Nothing is as it should be!" Drúadan ground out. "The numbers of Orcs are growing. Darkness and doubt is tainting everything. Do you not see it? The portents are all here. The realm of Sauron is regaining its strength."

"What would you have us do?" my grandfather nearly hissed at the man, shocking me enough to gain my full attention, my personal moments with the girl be damned. "We can only battle what we can see. The Three are here and protected. The Seven are destroyed. The Nine are overcome, but they are trapped in Minas Morgul. And you yourself have told us the One is safe. You know the way everything will play out. You tell us what you would have us do."

"I would have you stand," Drúadan spat back. He then seemed to calm, as if some knowledge had suddenly come to him. He looked away. "But you will never be ready."

Then he was gone, out of the room and down the winding stair.

Willow breathed deeply, seeming to be a little upset and more than a little aggravated. Then she rose and gave a small nod to all of us. "Excuse me."

"Yeah…sorry," Xander muttered as he followed her out towards where Drúadan had gone.

Meluiell sat silently for several moments, staring intently at her fingers as they picked at her dress. After a long pause, she once again looked up, first at my grandmother and grandfather, then towards me. As her eyes once again met mine, she drew in a sharp breath, suddenly standing as she glanced around uncertainly. "I'm gonna…yeah."

She then went the way of her family, stumbling several times in her haste.

Once she was gone, Haldir sunk down in her vacant seat, appearing to be concerned in some new way, a way that was somehow different than the ranting worry he had displayed with the portal opening over the wood.

We were all silent, all of us contemplating the events of the day in our own way. I was not terribly concerned, as Meluiell had opened such portals once before, unintentionally. I was especially eased by the fact that my grandmother thought things were well in order…or I was until I looked up at her once more.

She turned to me as soon as my eyes were on her, as she always had done since I was a child. And her all-seeing eyes frightened me in that moment. "Elladan, Elrohir," she said softly but gravely, calling all eyes to her. She took a step towards the lace-veiled window and pulled back the draping fabric to look off into the distance at something that was unseen to my eyes. "Gandalf the Grey is in the Shire, visiting with his Hobbit friends. He is due at Isengard before the winter has set in."

She turned to us suddenly, expression one of deep concern. "I ask of you to go, find him, bring him here."

My grandfather watched her with careful eyes as he stepped closer towards her. "Does something trouble you?"

"His wisdom is needed," my grandmother said, her voice softer than mortals would be able to hear, even in close settings as these. "Our borders were breached this day. A life fell through the portal. We must find what it was."

My breath hitched in my throat. Another thing from a world not our own had passed into Lothló rien. It was a hard thought to accept the first time. Now, again…it was not any easier. And who was to say it was a being from Meluiell's home world. It could have been anything.

"You deceived them?" Arwen breathed in disbelief. It was a disturbing thought, that my grandmother had willfully deceived the others. Especially about this, this thing that so concerns them.

My grandmother nodded, very sure in her deceit. "If they knew, they would leave these borders. They must not do that, not yet."

We all knew it then. Something was not right. But Elladan was the one to give voice to what we all knew. "What is wrong?"

"I fear these children to be in grave danger," our grandmother replied, once again looking past all of us to something we were now beginning to understand. "A danger they cannot see."

Arwen stood instantly, gaze locking onto our grandfather's. "Eirien, Rossell, and Erniethan--"

"They are safe with Aragorn," our grandmother cut in sharply. "I would not alarm them by calling them home."

Our grandfather's fears was not easily allayed. "Do you have any idea what this danger could be?"

"They were brought here with purpose," his wife replied, voice gentle and calming. "Though they are little more than children, I feel that they may be that which will turn the tide of the war. But for good or evil, I do not yet know. They must be kept safe. Their presence in Middle-Earth must remain hidden, from the Enemy and the world at large. All our hope depends on this."

I knew that hope first hand. It was something we had not had in a very long time. Even with Estel, our first sign of hope, it was a small hope, glimmering so far away. But they could actually see that first hope through…and foster a new hope in the hearts of many.

And possibly myself as well.

"I wish to help you," I said slowly, rising from my seat as I did. "But I feel I must stay here."

Small smiles found me from all around, suggesting the moment I thought to have been private had not been. Especially to my grandmother. "Elrohir…you must work through these feelings on your own. No one can help you. No one but her. Stay, yes, you should stay."

Elladan was then left to his charge, this important task. And he met it as he always did. "I'll track down Mithrandir and bring him to you. With hope, before the winter."

Hope. Something not quite foreign to any of us anymore.

A/N: Please review!


	24. Bloody Realizations

It had happened again. She shouldn't have been surprised at all, not at that point. It was as it had always been, ever since they had met. She had just thought…

She had seen his soul. She knew she had. And she knew what they were in that moment. Like Arwen and Aragorn, forever meant to be together. And when she had confronted Arwen about it, she had been furious. They had all known, they had all lied to her, no one had thought to let her know…

Two months. Two months since Dawn Summers had literally seen the bond she shared with Elrohir of Rivendell in vibrant hues like the sunrise…and they were still fighting. Still hating one another.

It didn't help that she was still not speaking to Willow, Xander, Giles, or Arwen. She barely spoke with Galadriel, except for lessons. She was just so angry and hurt, even still, that they hadn't told her what she and Elrohir were.

The argument was almost legend. It happened the day she accidentally opened a portal. She had followed Giles, Willow, and Xander after they had left the dining hall. There had been a good deal of calming Giles. Then she had confided in them what she had learned. And they had confessed…they already knew! Arwen and Elladan had clued them in many weeks before.

She saw red for days. There was no reasoning that they hadn't tried, no excuse they hadn't given, no apology they hadn't woven. But after all they had been through, especially with Buffy, they hadn't told Dawn that she, like her sister, was the soul mate of an immortal being.

As a result, Giles had become even more shut off from everyone than he had been before, losing himself in Celeborn's library almost daily. Xander had thrown himself into his march warden duties. Arwen had been spending an unnatural amount of time with her grandmother. And Willow was taking her solace in the wood, earning herself an Elven name from Elrohir in the process: Eryniel Baratathar, or Star-Woods Fiery-Willow-Tree. Having no other friends except for perhaps Haldir, Dawn had taken to spending time with the Captain of Lórien. That had resulted only in him forcing Dawn to train with him in the Elven ways of tracking, stealth, and combat…which wasn't going as well as even Dawn had hoped it to.

Dawn, having no one to talk to but occasionally Haldir, and Elrohir, having less people to talk to now that his brother had left, were worse than they had ever been. The one that morning had been the worst yet.

Dawn didn't see an end in sight. She loved Elrohir, that much she knew for a fact. At times, she felt like she could trust him. That she knew him. She could feel him near her. With a look, she knew what he felt and why. She knew how he thought. She knew what drove him. She knew what he feared. She knew what he wanted. She knew Elrohir, what made him who he was as though she herself _was_ Elrohir. And she knew he knew her, too.

It was like some kind of sick joke. Her soulmate was an immortal from another dimension who hated her more than she'd ever seen anyone hate a person in her entire life. It went beyond hate. It was loathing.

She paced on top of Cerin Amroth, mind clouded with rage at the Powers for doing this to her, at her friends for hiding it from her. The usually calming hillside did nothing for her that day as she worried away at her problems with her mind. Trying to find some sort of answer, trying to find some sort of meaning.

She turned and came millimeters from running right into Elrohir.

"Shit," she muttered, stepping back and taking a deep breath in an attempt to calm her nerves. It took a moment, but once the shock was gone, she turned her eyes on him in one of her iciest glares. "Don't do that."

Elrohir raised a brow slyly, though the look in his eyes was far from playful. "Do what?"

Dawn crossed her arms in front of her and shifted into a defensive posture, a little embarrassed she had been taken by such surprise. "Sneak up on someone like a friggin' shadow."

His cool grey eyes followed her moves carefully, almost as if he were trying to calculate…something. "It is not my fault that you ignore your surroundings."

"You did it on purpose and you know it," Dawn said accusingly, knowing herself that it was only half-true. The fact was, eve though he had meant to catch her unawares, he shouldn't have been able to do it, not with the magics taught to her by Galadriel nor with the training she had been enduring under Haldir the past two months. But she didn't really care about the facts at that moment, she just wanted someone to blame. She shot him a dark look, then turned to head back to the city. "Jesus, tie a bell around your neck or something."

"I thought you could sense when someone approaches," he baited her, stepping in front of her and cutting her off. "Is that not one of the many tricks my grandmother taught you?"

She looked up at him, barely containing herself. "I'm not that good at it," she answered slowly. "It's Willow's thing. Besides it's not like it's all that strange to feel an Elf approach. We're only in the middle of your species' cultural center."

Elrohir wasn't satisfied. When Dawn moved to leave again, he once again countered with, "You hid from Elladan and I when you felt us approach this hill not six months ago."

"Well, you didn't exactly feel like you were bearing hearts and puppies when you came," Dawn nearly shouted in his face, throwing her hands up as she spun away to put more distance between them. "You were too angry at Aragorn over Arwen. Everyone knows that anger leads to the Dark Side."

"And yet it has been how long has it been since you last spoke with Eryniel?" Elrohir pointed out in a knowing tone, his eyes on her as she slowed, then stopped. "Or Drúadan? Xander? Arwen?"

Dawn sighed. It was true, she was angry, that was no secret. But only Elrohir knew how miserable it made her. It was the subject of more than a few of their many recent fights. She suddenly didn't feel like fighting again. She didn't want to do anything. She was so tired from all of it, all of the last few months. "I told you that's none of your business."

But instead of the superior attitude he usually threw at her when he one-upped her, Elrohir seemed to instead relax slightly. He sighed and gave her a slightly sympathetic look. "I am just illustrating how you should not be the one to cast stones."

Dawn turned away from him. She felt like crying. She hated to cry. And what's worse, crying right in front of him…she had never lowered herself to that. But she had never been so alone as she was in that moment. No friend to turn to, her sister gone, her world pulled out from under her…she was drowning in it. And the family she had with her…they had lied. Which never ended well with them. "They didn't tell me."

"You already knew," he pointed out gently.

She blinked and felt the damp that the two tears left in their wake as they slid down her cheeks. It was true. She consciously knew the night of the portal. But, however corny it might have sounded, she had known since he first touched her. She just hadn't wanted to know. That was what was killing her. "But they didn't know that."

"They are all remorseful," he said in an almost soothing tone. "Have you never done anything, hidden anything from someone in an attempt to shield them from the truth?"

She giggled. There were so many answers to that question, she didn't even know where to begin. Then it occurred to her that she wasn't talking to Xander or Spike or Giles or Celeborn or Haldir or Elladan. Dawn was actually having a real honest conversation with Elrohir. And…it was weird. "I don't think we have ever done this."

"Done what?" he asked, voice laced with confusion.

Dawn laughed as she leaned against the nearest tree drowsily. "Spoken three words without one of us insulting the other or, you know, without throwing large heavy objects."

Elrohir did not reply. Instinctively, Dawn looked up, knowing something wasn't right. But he was still there. And he was staring at her.

Dawn immediately looked down, but it was too late. She could feel the connection growing. It was always there, always at the back of her mind. But is she let herself acknowledge it, want it in the slightest bit…

Summoning all her strength, she pushed away from the tree and looked up at him coolly, avoiding his eyes. "What are you looking at?"

It was as if someone deflated a balloon. The connection dwindled a bit, became it's old almost-unbearable-but-just-manageable self. Dawn couldn't help but sigh in relief. But she was almost shocked out of it when she heard Elrohir sigh in something that was definitely not relief. She looked up at the Elf just to see his usually calm and collected expression…but caught a glimpse of the disappointment it masked.

He gave her a small nod and said softly, "We cannot continue like this."

Dawn cringed, not wanting to talk about what he was saying. "I know."

He watched her for a few moments as if waiting for something. Then he frowned in frustration. "It is because we do not speak of it that we fight."

"What do you want me to say, Elrohir?" Dawn asked as she suddenly stepped to his side. "Huh? I barely know you, can't even stand you…and you're my soulmate."

They were barely apart. Inches if that. But neither dared move. "Interesting, is it not?"

"I don't want to be your One," Dawn hissed, looking up at the Elf who was almost a head taller than her. "I don't want to be your friend, much less your eternal beloved."

"And I don't want to be bound to a foolish Mortal child," Elrohir spat back in disgust.

Dawn stepped back as if slapped. "Well, excuse me!"

He flinched slightly, the anger and hatred in his stormy eyes falling away as quickly as it had come. "I apologize. I should not take this out on you."

Dawn, still a little resentful, shrugged. "So what do you suggest?"

"Me?" Elrohir asked doubtfully.

"You're the one that brought it up," Dawn replied pointedly. "Hell, you're the one with the most experience with this thing. I mean, look at your sister and Aragorn!"

Elrohir raised an eyebrow. "I hear tell that your sister knows of her soulmate."

Dawn snorted bitterly. "You mean Angel, the man my sister was forced to kill, then separated from by whole dimensions?"

He grimaced. "I would take it that it is much more complicated than that."

"You'd be right," Dawn drawled as she leaned back against the tree several paces away from Elrohir. She crossed her arms in front of her and glared at him.

"Meluiell, I really do apologize," Elrohir said in a sincere tone, stepping closer to her. "This is unexpected and, to be frank, unwanted. You seem to be a very kind if not…spirited young woman, but you are not something I truly want in my life."

Dawn's eyes widened. "And you're an asshole that I definitely don't want."

He stepped back, looking as if she had taken something very dear to him. He looked down at the ground and gave a short nod. "Yes. Yes, forgive me. I will not trouble you again."

Dawn felt her chest tighten as he turned his back, knowing she had hurt him more than she usually did. "Elrohir, wait."

He stopped and turned, watching her carefully. She shrugged and closed the distance between them once more, feeling a little sheepish. "My mouth isn't really connected to my brain, so just…I didn't mean that. You're not an asshole. And I understand where you're coming from. I'm barely twenty-years-old. I don't want to get married or be in some big emotional relationship and certainly not with some guy that'll live forever. That kind of thing never works out with the women of my family."

His eyes watched her for the longest time, as if trying to find something. Then he nodded again. "I will have to meet your sister, then, and hear of this tragic tale."

Dawn almost laughed, shaking her head as her mind brought Angel's face to the surface. "Trust me, you really don't want to."

Elrohir gave her a small smile and said softly, "I do not want to be your enemy, Meluiell."

"And I don't want to be yours," she replied honestly. "Maybe we could try to be…civil? Work towards a friendship someday?"

He nodded, a light coming to his usually dark eyes. "Maybe. But yes, I do believe we can be civil acquaintances at the very least."

"I'd like that."

And she knew even then that she was lying. She didn't want to be his friend. She wanted to know him completely. In every way. She needed to be able to wrap herself in the knowledge of him and never let it go. And she almost broke, knowing that she truly wanted more but would never let herself have it.

"_Though love's folly is surely but a fancy,_

Still it should prove to me sweeter than your scorn."

The slightly melodic words ghosted through the knoll, breaking the spell of Cerin Amroth and pulling both girl and Elf into the present.

Elrohir, ever the protector, stepped closer to her, hand on the handle of the long dagger her wore at his side. "Did you hear that?"

Dawn frowned, something tugging on the edges of her memory, something she had heard before. "Uh…"

"_Soon you will meet with another pretty maiden,_

Some pretty maiden, you'll court her for a while."

"I hear that," Dawn murmured in a small voice.

Not wasting another moment, Elrohir silently took her by the arm and quickly led her aside. He ducked under the brush that surrounded a large tree on side of the hill, pulling her with him. Once hidden, he pushed her against the trunk of the tree, pinning her against it with his body.

Thus ever ranging, turning and changing,

Always seeking for a girl that is new."

Dawn could barely breathe, feeling Elrohir so close to her. He was practically lying on top of her. She felt his breath, warm and damp, on the side of her neck and she could barely contain the shiver she felt envelope her insides.

He felt it too, for his whispered words were rough in her ear. "What do you sense?"

Dawn closed her eyes, trying to gather the focus she needed to reach out with her senses. But she couldn't. "It…it's…I don't know…"

"_Thus sang the maiden, her sorrows bewailing,  
Thus sang the poor maid in the valley below._"

The connection they so carefully worked to ignore was in flames. Dawn felt it surrounding her. "Elrohir…"

A strange looking man on horseback pushed his way into the clearing.

"_'Oh don't deceive me, oh never leave me,  
How could you use, a poor maiden so?'_"

And with those words, Dawn pushed all thought of the connection aside as she rolled out from underneath Elrohir. She looked up at the clearing, smiling broadly. "Oh, my god."

Elrohir watched her from where her landed on his side, confused. "Meluiell?"

Dawn drank in the sight of the man on horseback before her. "It's Spike."

"_Early one morning, just as the su_"

"Spike!"

He jumped from his horse and turned sharply to the brush, a little bewildered, but mostly hopeful. "Dawn!"

"Spike!" Dawn yelled again as she jumped from the thick undergrowth and into the arms of the man she held as her brother.

"Dawn!" Spike gasped as he picked her up and twirled her around in the air. "You little bugger!"

"Oh, my god!" Dawn giggled, kicking her feet in protest. Finally, after several more moments of singing, Spike placed her back on her feet and loosened his grip, but did not release her.

Dawn barely recognized the man before her. His hair was dark blonde, long and wavy, and wild-looking, caked with dirt and oil. There was even a few twigs in it. He had regained the muscle he had lost while in Lórien, and while still retaining his wiry frame had at least bulked up a little. His clothing was rough, ragged and had altered drastically from that which he was sent out in. His skin was darker and he just looked…he looked so alive.

"Look at you!" Dawn breathed out with a small laugh, before throwing her arms around him again. "Ah, I can't believe it!"

"Look at you!" Spike exclaimed as he pulled back slightly, giving her a quick once-over. He shook his head, amazed. "You get prettier every time I see you."

Dawn glanced over his shoulder briefly, grinning like an idiot. "Where's Buffy? Where's Aragorn? And Faith? And Buffy, where's Buffy?"

Spike's smile faded just a bit, then he shook his head. "I left them in Bree. They were going to head to a Dúnadan camp on the southern coast of Forochel."

"Oh," Dawn said softly, not being able to hide her slight disappointment. Then her eyes met Spike's ice-blue eyes once more and she didn't care. She pulled him into yet another tight embrace. "Well, at least you're home!"

He laughed heartily and Dawn couldn't help but register what an incredible sound it was. She had never heard him laugh like that, as if he were truly happy inside and out. She stood on her tiptoes and ruffled his long hair. "God, you look good! Peroxide completely out, huh?"

"I cut the tips off this past summer," he said a bit wistfully. "Almost cried when I did it. You should see your sister. She won't let us touch hers. Wants to hold on to the last vestige of pure golden blonde she has, instead of that dirty blonde color that's been growing in."

Dawn smiled widely as she and Spike finally pulled apart, though she refused to release his arm, thinking of her sister and the last six-inches of died hair hanging down her back. "Hey, I accept my status as a brunette, she should at least learn to live with being a darker blonde."

Spike gave her the evil smirk she knew all too well. "Faith plans to chop it off in her sleep on her birthday."

"That'll be a nice surprise," Dawn said with a grin, wishing she could be there to see her sister's reaction when she noticed her beloved six-inches of color-treated hair was gone. She gave Spike's arm a squeeze, completely overjoyed. "So, why are you here? How long are you staying? When are you taking a bath?"

Spike started to reply, then stopped, looking over Dawn's shoulder with an eyebrow raised. "New friend, ducks?"

Dawn turned to see Elrohir in all his stormy-eyed glory standing tall behind her, looking ready to strike if need be. Though his manner was unfriendly, he still graciously gave Spike the traditional Elven bow. "Mae govannen."

"Spike, this is Elrohir," Dawn explained quickly. "Arwen's brother."

"Ah," the man said with a nod, before returning the bow. "Mae govannen."

Elrohir looked at Dawn expectantly. She rolled her eyes. "Elrohir, this is Spike."

"Also known as Erniethan," Spike clarified.

Elrohir visibly relaxed with this, nodding to Spike a little bit more welcoming. "I see."

"Pleasure," Spike said, eyeing the Elf carefully. He turned to Dawn, questions all over his face as his eyes went to the grass stains on her dress. "You two weren't…"

Dawn's eyes went wide and she gave a slightly nervous laugh. "Oh, n-no, we were just talking."

Spike didn't look convinced. "Right."

Dawn nodded, slapping his chest playfully in an attempt to distract the too-sharp blue eyes. "Really. We heard you and hid. Thought you were an Orc. A badly singing Orc."

Spike chuckled at her, then gave her the patented 'Big Bad' leer. "Well, I get that a lot."

Dawn smiled, the feeling of peace and safety his presence always brought overwhelming her. "God, I'm so happy you're back!"

He shifted so that his free arm could wrap around her shoulders and pulled her firmly against him. "So am I."

"Buffy?" Dawn asked expectantly.

"Sends her love," Spike reported. "Hopefully will be to see you sometime next year."

Dawn nodded. "Well, I hope, too. See you every year my ass."

"Language," he mock reprimanded before continuing. "And Faith says to ask if everything is five by five."

"Everything's been great," Dawn informed the Ranger with a smile. Said smile faded a bit for a moment as she thought of the events two months before. "Well, there was this thing about two months ago"

"Then it was you?" Spike asked, causing her eyes to widen in shock. He just nodded. "We could see it in Bree, pet. It looked like the same kind of light you generate when you use your Key-like qualities, but…I wasn't sure."

"It was a portal," Dawn informed him. "But I didn't open it."

Spike frowned as he eyed her. "What do you mean?"

"I got this sudden nosebleed and it opened, like, a few hundred feet up," Dawn recounted. "We had no idea what it was."

"So nothing really happened?" Spike asked slowly.

"Well…there was this scream," Dawn admitted, becoming suddenly introspective. It was that scream that haunted her dreams at night. She could feel that something horrible had happened, something that was entirely her fault. "It sounded so familiar, Spike. I know that scream, but I can't place it. But Galadriel said nothing came through, that she would have known if it did."

Spike's expression remained calm, but his eyes revealed how much her words troubled him. "She's sure?"

Dawn nodded miserably. "Pretty sure."

Spike glanced over to Elrohir, who was still standing awkwardly to the side. "What do you have to say about all of this?"

Elrohir opened his mouth to reply, then hesitated. After a moment, he nodded. "I do not know much of Meluiell's abilities, nor do I know a great deal of magic. But I trust my grandmother completely."

Spike watched him for the longest time. He did not blink, did not say anything. He just watched him. Elrohir, in turn, did not give any indication that Spike's unwavering gaze bothered him in the slightest. But Dawn, on the other hand, felt a terrible sinking in the pit of her stomach.

There, in Spike's protective arms, it came to her again. She heard it, that echo of a scream, the name on the edge of her lips. There was ash all around her, heat that was empty and strangely chilling. A hollow feeling in her chest as despair threatened her. A hope for something that she knew should happen, some sort of distant fading memory of a saving grace. Then, for some reason, she smelled the rancid smell of burning flesh. The dry eyes that had no more tears to shed. The hoarse voice that almost couldn't scream. And the question, the whispered question that she had never heard in her nightmares before but that she instinctively knew had been asked over and over again in an unending chant…_Where are you?_

Spike's arms tightened around her, shattering the vision that had come upon her so suddenly. Dawn quickly blinked away the wetness in her eyes and pushed aside the ache in her chest as she looked up at Spike. He was still watching Elrohir carefully. Then he blinked and nodded at the Elf. "I'm sure you do."

Dawn couldn't stay on that hill a moment longer. She knew if she did, the scream would come again, and maybe the next time it would overtake her. She pulled on his arm, leading him back to where his horse was liberally grazing on the greenery of the hill. "Come. We must take you to Caras Galadhon."

"Yeah, I know," Spike said as he broke away from the young woman and quickly mounted the black stallion. He glanced at Elrohir. "Care if I gave the Nibblet a lift back?"

Elrohir waved his hand. "By all means"

Before Elrohir could say another word, Spike hoisted Dawn into the saddle in front of him and took off. They galloped away from Cerin Amroth, Dawn shrieking gleefully, having never been on a horse. Once they were a good ways away from the hill, Spike slowed it to a trot. "Enjoying Manchester, luv?"

Dawn shifted to give him a mock-stern look over her shoulder. "That was kinda mean."

"Yeah, and he was kinda lying," Spike muttered as he carefully directed Manchester over the winding path that led to the city. His tone indicated he was anything but playful. "Something's up, Nibblet."

"I know," Dawn breathed, feeling that familiar sinking pit in her stomach return. "I have a really horrible feeling about that scream, Spike. I think we've failed in some way…"

Spike thought this over for a moment before asking her seriously, "Failed as what?"

"As a family," Dawn finished in a rough tone. The tears that came with the nightmares threatened to spill once more. "Why are you back, Spike?"

Spike pulled her back more firmly against him, his arms tightening around her protectively. "Listen, we need to have a Scooby meeting. Soon."

Xander enjoyed being a march warden. It was something no other mortal had ever accomplished. He was very proud of his position. But as much as he enjoyed it, he enjoyed his days off even more.

In the past, he had usually spent his free time annoying Giles or the girls. But lately, after the huge falling out with Dawn, they had all been a little more reclusive. Xander missed their company, of course, but the time to himself had been good for him. He had really begun to come to terms with the fact that he would never again see his parents, relatives, the potentials and other Sunnydalers, the LA bunch, or anyone else from Earth ever again. It was a hard pill to swallow in some cases, as with the potentials, other Sunnydalers, and most of the LA group. In other's, as with his relatives, it was almost a cause for celebration. Still, accepting that he would never again know the joy of twenty-first century American living wasn't something easily done. Even though he very much enjoyed the world around him, in some ways much more than he had enjoyed Earth, he still wasn't sure if Middle-Earth would ever be home. But he had made steps towards being more comfortable.

In a way, the past few months had demonstrated to him how much he truly needed his family. And when he said family, he did not mean the drunkards that shared his DNA. When Buffy, Spike, and Faith left Lórien, he felt as if a piece of him went missing. In Buffy's case, he admitted how much he truly missed her from the start. Though he had known that for so long. When Buffy had died that last time, he had known. And while he understood why she had had to leave, he still missed her like the air he breathed.

Faith and Spike were a different matter. If anyone had asked Xander before the fight with Dawn if he missed Faith and Spike, he would have been very casual about it. Yes, he would have definitely said he missed their company. Yes, he would have definitely admitted to some slight worry for their safety. But over all, he would have never admitted to really loving them as a part of the group.

After the time spent in thought, Xander knew that he cared a great deal for Faith and Spike. They were a part of him, part of the group, part of the family. He truly missed their presence and wished them only the best.

The divide that separated him from Willow, Giles, and Dawn had taught him what they meant to him, as well. Willow, of course, was everything to Xander. And Giles well, he was more of a father to Xander than his actual father. And Dawn…she was the little sister. He would give anything to protect her, shield her. Which, of course, had led to their current problem.

Above all, Xander had learned that while he needed his family very much…he could survive without them. But he didn't want to.

So Xander let Dawn remain furious, having given up on apologizing weeks ago. He knew that she viewed their withholding the truth of her and Elrohir's relationship as a betrayal. And betrayal was the ultimate sin within the Scooby Gang.

So Xander waited patiently for the day that Dawn would either cool down enough to partially forgive them or that inevitable point in the future when the Powers would decide to play with their lives some more. Either way, the broken trust between Dawn and the rest of them would be rebuilt. It always was.

He just wished he had known that day would be today.

Spike returned. Alone. Dawn was so thrilled that she forgot to stick to the silent treatment she had so diligently imposed upon Willow, Xander, Giles, and even Arwen. While she still regarded them somewhat coolly, she had at least yelled for them when she brought Spike back with her to the talan. She had waited patiently between Xander and Giles as Spike gave a full report to Celeborn and Galadriel, then stayed with the group while Spike cleaned up. And at the slightly nicer dinner they had in honor of Spike's return, Dawn had excitedly joined the conversation. Everyone, even Elrohir, was wise enough not to question it.

But Dawn acted more strangely at dinner than she had acted in the past two months. When the dinner ended and the time came for everyone to go their separate ways, she pulled Willow off with her instead of joining Spike.

So it was just Xander that helped Spike unload his things from Manchester that evening and move them up into Xander's room. Spike was more than grateful to Xander for opening his room to the ex-vampire, thus saving him from rooming with Giles.

"You don't mind, do you?" Spike asked as he threw his things down in the corner next to the spare bed a few of the Galadhrim had brought in while they were on the ground.

"As long as you promise you'll only be here for the year," Xander joked as he set Spike's collection of weapons at the foot of the bed.

Spike looked around the room that he used to share with Xander and Giles. Xander had to admit that it was very different. Giles was gone and the extra beds had been moved out. A desk and four very comfortable chairs had been moved in. Xander had tried unsuccessfully to decorate with a few drawings Dawn had done of Willow, Buffy, Faith, herself, and a McDonald's but it was still an overly Elven room. A large wooden shelf that Xander had built himself leaned against the wall next to the door. On the top shelf was an assortment of books. The next one down was messily stuffed with rolls of parchment, quills, and ink jars. The middle shelf held a couple of leather balls, several spare eye patches, and a deck of playing cards Willow had made the past winter in a particular stint of boredom. The fourth shelf held the washbowl and an emergency first aid kit. The fifth shelf had his spare pair of boots. On the side of the bookcase that faced away from the door were several hooks and notches that displayed his personal weaponry.

Spike was drawn to the small arsenal of knives, bows, arrows, axes, and two swords that Xander had begun collecting over the past few years. Picking up a long handled knife Xander had conned out of a local Elf in a card game, Spike turned to the other man. "So when did Giles move out?"

"About eight months ago," Xander replied as he stumbled across the room to his bed. "Willow and Dawn were offered their own rooms, too, but they wouldn't hear of it, though they probably wished they had taken the offer now. Actually, it took a little convincing on my part to get Giles out of here."

"I understand," Spike said as he tested the weight of the knife in his right hand. "Traveling back here by myself was probably the loneliest I've ever been in my entire life. I don't know if we'll ever be able to live apart from one another, at least not for a few years yet."

"Takes practice," Xander mumbled a little darkly as he thought of recent events. "Caring for yourself."

"We work better as a group," Spike continued as he pulled off the tunic Galadriel had forced him into after he'd bathed. "The only reason we all survived…or, well, the only reason most of us survived."

"Yeah," Xander agreed as he flopped down on the bed, completely wiped.

"So, what's with the three of you and the Little Bit?"

Xander sat up quickly, giving the smirking blond a guilty look. "What?"

Spike slowly raised an eyebrow. "Don't play games with me."

Xander sighed, defeated. "She's peeved at us for keeping secrets."

"You kept secrets from her?" Spike asked, surprised. "Did Sunnydale teach you nothing?"

"Like you never kept secrets from us," Xander said with a pointed look.

Spike shrugged as he sat on the edge of his bed. "I learned better. Hell, even with Dru I knew well-enough to be honest."

Xander started to reply, then stopped at the name Dru. After a few moments of thought, he gave a short chuckle. "Wow, Drusilla. I haven't thought about her in…I can't remember when I last thought about her."

"I know," Spike said. "A little odd, eh?"

Xander thought for a moment, then shrugged a bit sadly. "It's not our life anymore."

Just then, Giles swept into the room, looking thoroughly irritated. "All right, I'm here. What was so urgent we couldn't have discussed it at dinner?"

Xander frowned, looking to Spike for some answer. He just shook his head. "Just need to wait for the girls."

"The girls?" Xander repeated, realizing that a Scooby meeting had been called without his knowledge. "Spike, is something wrong?"

"Best left until everyone can hear," Spike said with an anxious smile. "But don't worry too much. Nothing we can't handle."

"For some reason, I'm not comforted," Giles remarked in a dry tone as he took a seat in one of the desk chairs.

Spike raised a brow, then asked Giles, "Galadriel?"

"Off with Elrohir," The former librarian replied hastily. "Discussing the letter you brought from Lord Elrond."

"And Celeborn?" Spike pressed.

Giles looked up at the ex-vampire sardonically. "I'd imagine he is with Elrohir and Galadriel."

"Ow, okay, okay," Willow nearly shouted as she came into the room followed by a frustrated Dawn. Willow looked up at the men and scowled as she rubbed a slightly pink spot just above her elbow. "Dawn insisted we come up."

"Good," Spike said dismissively, then turned to Xander. "Chubs, get the drapes."

Xander closed the drapes along the open walls, blocking the rest of the city out from the room. Willow frowned as she sat down next to Giles. "This feels a little cloak and dagger-y."

Spike tied the drapes around the door closed, glancing over his shoulder at the girls. "Where's Arwen?"

"Resting," Willow replied, frown deepening. "She'll probably be in her room for a few hours."

Spike turned and cast a quick glance at Dawn. "Are you sure the brothers three won't be back for a while?"

Xander frowned at the question, wondering about its meaning, while Dawn answered, "Not until near the midnight."

Then Xander understood. Haldir, Rú mil, and Orophin were on patrol until the middle of the night. That's when his patrol normally began, though he had the night off.

Spike gave Dawn a quick nod. "All right, pigeon."

Dawn closed her eyes and muttered a few words that Xander recognized as a privacy spell. His guess was that no one outside the room could hear them if they wanted to, even if the Scoobies started screaming at one another.

Willow gave Dawn a pointed look. "There's no way Galadriel won't notice that."

Dawn rolled her eyes. "She already knows we're meeting."

"Of course she does," Spike said lowly. "There are no secrets from her in these woods. Still, she can't hear this."

Xander was worried almost beyond the point of reason as a pair of ice blue eyes landed on him. "Red, Xander, I need you to be completely candid with me."

Willow nodded shakily and Xander replied, "All right."

"Spike, what's wrong?" Giles asked, no longer able to restrain himself. "Is it Buffy?"

Spike waved his hand dismissively. "No, no, I'd have told you right off if it was something like that."

He stood there in the middle of the room with all of them surrounding him. Finally, Willow threw up her hands. "Well?"

Spike nodded, then said slowly, "The Ring of Power is in the Shire, right?"

"Spike!" Giles chastised immediately. They all knew the rule…don't talk about what you shouldn't know.

Dawn vocalized the rule, showing that she didn't know why Spike had brought them together anymore than the rest of them. "I thought we agreed not to speak of such things."

"Listen to me!" Spike said harshly, instantly quieting all further remarks. "See if this sounds right. We met up with Gandalf, Gandalf the Grey a few years back."

"The Istari?" Giles asked, intrigued. "Mithrandir?"

Spike nodded quickly. "Know him?"

Giles cocked his head. "Only what I know from speaking with the Elves."

Xander jumped in. "Galadriel said he went on a sort of adventure with a Hobbit out of the Shire a few years ago. Baggins."

"The Ring would have been found then," Willow joined the conversation with. "This is the Istari concerned with Aragorn and the Shire, right?"

Spike frowned, hard. "That's the thing. See, we meet and I say something to him, about him taking care of the Shire. He gets all thoughtful like and says that that's a good idea, that he once had a friend in the Shire and it had been several years since he had seen him. That he should stop in for a visit."

Xander looked over at Willow, who was balking at the idea. Then he turned to Spike, confused. "That's not right at all. He should be going and making regular visits to the Shire, ever since he went with that group to the Lonely Mountain."

"That's what I thought," Spike said. He sighed and sat down on the edge of his bed, looking very tired. "You said something like that once when we was all here. This was all two years ago. It's bothered me for a while now. Enough to leave the Dúnedain and come back here. And there's more."

Giles watched him, completely enthralled. "More?"

Spike nodded. "We've been fightin', right? Clearin' out Orcs and other pesky nuisances from Arnor and Eregion. There's not enough to pose more of a threat than us and the Rangers can handle, but…there's been more than enough to keep me, Buffy, and Faith busy. Aragorn, too. The four of us alone bring down four times what all the other Rangers do every year. Combined. Pretty consistently, too. I don't mean to say that without us they'd be overrun, but it would be a definite problem if we weren't there. A noticeable problem. One that might even warrant a war starting within the next few years."

"No," Willow said plainly, almost as if she were defying Spike's statement. "The Orcs should be a problem, yeah, but the war…it shouldn't start for at least a few decades."

Giles was more than a bit concerned. "Is it truly that bad?"

Spike shrugged. "It's under control for the time. But I'm not sure what it would be like without us."

Giles stood and removed his glasses, thinking hard. "Has anyone else experienced anything like this? Something that you knew should be happening, but wasn't?"

Willow wrinkled her nose in thought, then shrugged. "I, um…I don't think so."

"Arwen," Dawn said suddenly, drawing everyone's attention.

Giles frowned as he studied the girl carefully. "What about her?"

"Buffy and I almost _had_ to encourage her to pursue her relationship with Aragorn," Dawn said, looking up at Giles, confused. "Shouldn't they have been together anyways?"

"Yeah," Willow said slowly, bewildered. "Defying everyone and all, having no encouragement."

Xander stood, nervously rubbing his hands together. "You think just being here has thrown things off?"

"I always expected the timeline to be dramatically skewed eventually, but…this is much sooner than I had anticipated," Giles said, completely thrown. "Us just being here has naturally changed things. Lord knows where Aragorn would be right now had he not taken on Spike, Buffy, and Faith. And I can only imagine what we've distracted Galadriel and Celeborn from. But…well, I never imagined the disturbance would be so far-reaching."

"How could we have thrown Gandalf off like that?" Spike asked, clearly having given the matter a great deal of thought. "The first time I met him was when we had that conversation. It was like I had to set him on the right path."

Everyone was silent.

Willow was the first to break the stillness that had descended upon the room. "I don't like this."

Spike continued on. "He's started making those regular visits since I mentioned them. I stopped by Rivendell before making my way to the High Pass. Lord Elrond told me that Gandalf's been stopping by a few times, asking a few questions about Elven rings. He's starting to get suspicious."

"That is as it should be," Giles said slowly, almost as if to himself. "There's no need for us to jeopardize that. No, not yet."

"Wait," Dawn said as she regarded the room in confusion. "How is anything changed? Really? I don't understand? Spike, you pretty much sent Gandalf to the Shire like he's supposed to be. Arwen and Aragorn are betrothed, so that's all good. And the situation in Eriador is under control, right?"

Spike sighed in exasperation. "Yeah, but my point is that if we hadn't been here, it wouldn't be like it's supposed…to…be."

Spike trailed off, then spun around to face Giles. The Watcher was wide-eyed. Willow started to breathe heavily. Dawn stared at Spike in disbelief. Xander could barely find his breath, and when he did, it was only to chant, "Oh, my god."

Willow swallowed, staring at the floor in horror. "C…could you rep-repeat that, please?"

Spike did as he was asked. "If we weren't…weren't here, things wouldn't be like they're supposed to be."

Willow started to nervously tap her fingers against the desk. "What…what if…being here…in Arda…what if it is where we're meant to be?"

Giles reached out and laid a hand over Willow's to stop her fidgeting. "How so?"

"Well, Celeborn and Galadriel keep saying we're here for a purpose," Willow started slowly. "What if that purpose is making sure it all happens? What if it all happens the way we know it should happen _because_ we're here?"

Xander understood instantly. "Gandalf finds the Ring in the Shire because a friend suggests that he visits the Shire."

Spike nodded as he continued, "Arwen gets together with Aragorn because the support of her friends gives her the strength to defy her family."

Willow bit her lip, then went on, "The Shire and Bree-land are kept safe from the Orcs and goblins of the mountains because two Slayers and a…whatever the hell Spike is helped the Rangers keep the creatures at bay."

Giles stared at Willow for a moment, then rolled his head back as if suddenly the world made complete sense. "Oh, yes! Of course!"

They all waited patiently for the Watcher to explain. He turned and went immediately to Xander's bookshelf, pulling the young man's notes on the future. "We're a part of this! We are players in this game! There is no set future or guarantee that this will all work out because our actions are intermixed with the actions of others."

"You mean there's a possibility that this won't happen like it's supposed to?" Willow asked, a bit frightened. "That Sauron might win?"

Giles turned wildly waving the rolls of parchment in his hands. "The possibilities are limitless. There is no future set in stone for this world. All we know is dependent on choices, our choices and the choices of others. One small choice, something so simple as getting up in the morning or sleeping in a few extra minutes, can have a hundred consequences. Nothing is set. Aragorn, Galadriel, Celeborn, Gandalf, Arwen…they're not just fictional characters from a book. They are flesh and blood people standing right in front of us. This is a real world. This is really happening."

"No," Dawn said quietly. Everyone looked up at the girl. She looked adamant. "No. Listen to yourselves."

Giles sighed. "Dawn"

"No," she cut him off firmly. "It's impossible. This is a fairytale, a stupid, geeky book that only the really scholarly and the really dorky read and we just got sucked into it"

"Dawn, look at you and Elrohir," Willow cut in gently.

Spike snapped his gaze to Xander. "What about Elrohir?"

Xander motioned for Spike to move on to another topic. "Long story."

Dawn stood her ground. "That's some twisted, sick…I don't know what it is, but it's ridiculous."

Willow rolled her eyes, standing to reason with the girl. "Dawn, you're Meant for him!"

Spike blinked, again looking to Xander. "She is?"

"I am _not_ Meant for him!" Dawn suddenly shouted.

Willow, pushed too far from the long silence, pressed on. "Part of the reason we didn't tell you was that we didn't know how to explain it!"

"Arwen said it herself Dawn," Xander reasoned gently. "'It is not possible for a soul from one world to be Meant for a soul of another world.'"

Dawn clenched her hands at her sides as she stared furiously at the four of them. "Do you understand what you're saying?"

"Yeah, Bit," Spike said softly. "We do."

Dawn shook her head emphatically with tears in her eyes. "You are saying that the fairy tale we know might not be the way this goes. You are taking that security away from all of us. Do you really want to do that?"

Willow sunk back into her chair miserably, looking defeated and exhausted and terrified all at once. "I don't think we ever had that security."

Xander blinked. "Willow?"

"She's right," the redhead continued sorrowfully. "I never really believed it. I always thought…I thought it wasn't really going to happen."

"War is coming," Dawn said lowly. "Everyone we've met will most likely die."

Spike sighed as he moved to her side and wrapped a supportive arm around her. "We'll be dead and gone long before the war begins."

"That just means we can't do anything to help," Xander said angrily. "We can't even tell them anything useful to guide them. What good is knowing the future if you can't do anything to make it better?"

Giles gave them a bitter smile. "We just have to live our lives. Let the future come."

Spike sat on the bottom of the steps that led up to their talan, slowly smoking on the pipe Gandalf had given him a few years back. The evening had been telling. It would take him a good long while to absorb this. But Xander was right. He knew that a war, likely the war to end all wars, was coming. And that he wouldn't be able to do a damned thing to help his friends as they fought.

Someone cleared his throat to his right. He looked up to find the Elf he had met earlier standing before him. "Oh. Evening, mate."

The Elf nodded deeply to him. "Good evening to you, Master Erniethan."

Spike raised the pipe. "Does it bother you?"

Elrohir shook his head. "No."

"Didn't think so," Spike said as he stood. "Still, only polite to ask. Did you get everything squared away with Galadriel and Celeborn…uh, Elros, is it?"

"Elrohir," he corrected, then gave a quick nod. "And yes, everything is fine. Thank you for bringing us such quick news."

"No thanks needed," Spike said with a dismissive wave. "I like your pop. Good bloke, he is."

Elrohir straightened, obviously proud of his father. "I like to think so."

Spike nodded and put his pipe back in his mouth. "What you doin' so long in Lórien?"

Elrohir looked at him as if the answer should be obvious. "This is the land of my mother's kin."

Spike exhaled a lungful of smoke. "Visiting the family then?"

"Arwen has the luxury of coming often and staying for entire decades," Elrohir explained to him. "My brother and I more often must make our visits short with many long years between."

Spike took the pipe from his mouth. "I see. It must be nice to have been able to have been here over a year then. Especially with your brother and most of your father's house fighting to keep the roads West safe."

Elrohir's eyes narrowed slightly. "My brother is running errands for my grandmother, Master Erniethan. And I do my part here assisting the marchwardens."

Spike held his hands up. "I didn't mean any offense. Just an observation. I'm here to visit my family, myself."

Elrohir relaxed slightly, but not completely. "Ah, yes. You travel with Eirien and Rossell in the company of Estel."

"Aragorn has a high opinion of you," Spike told him as he knelt and emptied the tobaccus ash on the ground. "Says you and your brother are good fighters and good men."

Elrohir smiled fondly. "He was raised as our brother, and I love him as such."

"Yeah," Spike said as he straightened and tucked the pipe into the pocket of his pants. "I know that feeling. Being the older brother because fate gave you a chance."

He suddenly turned and, before Elrohir could blink, he grabbed the Elf by the neck and held him up against the trunk of the mallorn. Spike looked at him, eyes echoing those of the demon that once possessed him. "I don't care whose son you are or how good a fighter or how much Aragorn likes you. You hurt Dawn, I'll kill you."

Elrohir motioned that he agreed and Spike released him. The Elf landed back on his feet. He straightened proudly and gave the blond a curt nod. "Understood, Master Spike."

Spike eyed him, then turned to leave. "Good."

With that, he headed up the stairs to rest.


	25. Birth of a Legend

Elladan POV

I am not an Elf that looks down upon the race of Men as many of my kind are wont to do. I fully embrace them, as part of my heritage and as a race that truly wishes to make its mark upon Arda. But I'll be damned if they're not the filthiest creatures Iluvatar gave the breath of life.

I sat in the pub at an inn somewhere in the wilds of Fenmarch glaring at the pint of ale before me. The ale itself appeared to be as it should, having the correct consistency and coloring. But the tankard it was in appeared not to have been washed. Ever. It was crusted all around the sides with varying dried kinds of drink, food, and spittle. And there seemed to be some sort of greenish plant growing at the bottom. While I knew that I could not fall victim to illness of any kind, I knew that which was before me would severely test my Elven immortality. And even then, I was not sure that my immortality would hold.

I cursed Gandalf again in my mind. He was supposed to have been in the Shire. But no. I missed him by days. Since the, I have chased him to Imladris, down through Eregion, to Isengard, through Rohan to this place, this small cluster of farms on the edge of Gondor. He was staying here at this inn, that I knew. But waiting for him to return from whatever hell pit he had ridden off to, that was proving to be most trying.

The drunken group of Men in the corner behind me roared with laughter once more, receiving glares from most of the other patrons of the inn. A lone dark man of the South was the only one that cared to join them. I took little notice of them, but pulled my cloak tighter around me. Though I did not really care to broadcast to the locals that I was an Elf, I had learned long ago that concealing my ancestry could only benefit me if an unwise creature dared to try and attack me.

"They're not from Middle-Earth, they say."

The table of inebriated Rohirrim had stopped their raucous celebrating and had fallen a whispered conversation, led by the strange southern Man. I ignored them, instead giving my ale one last baleful look before pushing it away.

"Women are with 'em. Women that fight."

I could wait for Gandalf as easily out in Iluvatar's good sunlight as I could in this malodorous excuse of an inn. I quickly produced some silver coins from my pocket and sat them on the table next to the tankard.

"One's a dark sorceress that can burn your soul outta ya with a look."

Gathering the few belongings I had, I stood, re-strapping my sword at my side.

"Stayin' with the Elves."

I stopped, turning to look at the group of Men a little interested. I always enjoyed hearing Men speak of my race, humorous as those conversations often become.

"They could be workin' fer anyone. Elves…Orcs…they're dark creatures they are…"

This, however, was more troubling than comical. I made sure the hood of my cloak was pulled down lowly, then approached the group. They glanced up at me warily as I came closer. I addressed the southerner first, most sober of all the group. "Forgive me, but I could not help but overhear. What creatures do you speak of?"

The southerner eyed me darkly, then spit into the cup in front of him and said, "The Eldahini."

I frowned in confusion. The word was familiar, but strangely used. It was almost as if they were using it as a title, though I had never heard it used as thus. "The…the Elf-Children?"

"Aye, but they're not Elves," the southerner continued in a gruff voice, eyes shifting nervously as if these creatures would come down upon him just for speaking of them. "Men and women from the Northern Realms, they are. Strange creatures of terrible power. Come down to Middle-Earth to fight, since their own lands are purged. But fight for Light or Dark, no one knows."

And suddenly I understood why the conversation had bothered me so. Strangers from the North. It was the story told to the Elves of Lórien outside of his family in regards to Meluiell, Xander, Willow, Drúadan, Eirien, Rossell, and Erniethan. But it wasn't possible for these Men to know this. The story remained in the woods of Lothlórien along with the truth. I found my voice, and casually asked, "And where did you hear of this?"

"My wife's kin," the southerner answered, eye twitching. It was a lie, I knew that the moment he said it. But that is what he wished me to believe. "Her family is of the Dúnedain. Three of the Eldahini travel with them now, but they say there're four more hidden among the Elves."

He knew too much. "Seven beings?" I asked feigning amusement. "Hardly worth talking about."

"The three that pass their time with the Dúnedain are dreadful powerful, they are," one of the Rohirrim remarked. This caught my attention, for this Man spoke with the confidence of one who had known of this for a good length of time. "A man and two women, each with the strength of ten Men. They can crush a Man where he stands with a single blow. They've massacred entire packs of Orcs livin' in the shadows of the mountains."

Many of the other Rohirrim nodded and voiced their agreement. One particularly young Man said, "And I hear tell they sometimes drink the blood of their prey."

"I heard tell of one of the Eldahini," another started raising his glass to get the group's attention. "A lighter woman, she was, unlike one of the Dúnedain, more like our own folk here in the Mark. She seduced a Man into her bed, and ripped the soul from him. Then she sent him into the Darkness to become a creature of evil."

The Man next to him continued, "They say one of the women with the Elves is a dark sorceress, more powerful than the dread witch of Lórien herself. She blinks and the very skin is torn from your bones."

The first Man nodded, "Indeed."

"Aye," the group muttered.

I could hear the beat of my heart thudding loudly in my ears. The first tale I did not know, but the second…they were speaking of Willow. The young, bubbly little redhead had been very honest with them about her dark past from the day we met. I knew she had been overtaken by dark magics and had indeed flayed a man alive. The story was not one she told anyone, only those that knew the truth of her origins and she made friends with. Most of Caras Galadhon had not heard that story. And these Men were laughing over it.

One Man stood, calling attention to himself. "The way I heard tell, they're not demons, but gods. A fallen goddess of Morgoth tried to reclaim her lands into the Shadow, the Eldahini's home with them. They buried her in one battle, the seven of them against her and her armies. Claimed lordship over those lands."

I instantly recognized Dawn's personal tale of the hell-goddess Glorificus. I was consoled only to hear that they didn't know of the Key.

"And then they simply left them after battling so hard for them?" the southerner asked doubtfully, proving that this particular tale had not come from him.

The Man on his feet nodded. "I heard that where the Eldahini are, peace and Light follow. That they are Chosen of the One. That they are sent from one land threatened by Darkness to the next, finding no peace or joy except in vanquishing the Shadows there."

Chosen. The word young Xander had used with such contempt.

One of the Men sitting next to the standing Man laughed heartily, grabbing the Man on his feet and pulling him back down. "Éomund, always with you the thrill of the battle."

"Mark my words," the Man called Éomund said to the entire table. "Eirien Dagnirulun and Eryniel Baratathar are no more dark than you or I."

My eyes went wide when I heard the familiar name of Eirien Dagnirulun. I had not heard the Eryniel, but instantly recognized it as a name I knew my brother would have given Willow.

"Tis a bad omen, it is," the southerner said ominously. "Darkness creepin' back West. Outta the East."

Éomund gave the Man a sharp look. "Mind your words, Southerner."

I had heard all I needed to. I had to find Gandalf and return to Lothlórien immediately. I turned, but was stopped by the southerner. "What do you say, stranger? Have you not yet heard the tales?"

I looked over my shoulder, then answered him honestly, "Yes, I have."

Eomund watched me carefully. "What are your thoughts then?"

"I believe they are good people," I said plainly.

"The Eldahini are evil," the southerner contradicted. "Mark my words."

I pushed by the dark man and hastily made my way outside. As I was walking down the street, I finally found my quarry after a six month pursuit.

Gandalf greeted me warmly. "Elrohir, what are you doing here?"

"Elladan," I corrected, used to be mixed up with my brothers after thousands of years of practice. I bowed, but did not take the time to further greet him, having so urgent a cause. "I have been searching for you for nigh on half a year, Gandalf. You must come to Lothlórien."

The old wizard's face fell and he instantly became serious. "Has something happened, Elladan?"

"Aye," I replied without pause. "I do not know what, but it has to do with young Meluiell Minuial, Eirien Dagnirulun's sister."

"Has something happened to her?" Gandalf asked, concerned for the girl he had never met. The old wizard turned and started for the inn's stable.

I shook my head as I followed him. "No, nothing like that. She suddenly found herself bleeding from the nose for an unexplained reason. Before she could react, a portal formed in the air several hundred feet above her. My grandmother has told me to tell you that she felt a dark presence enter the wood and take something from the portal."

"Does anyone know this?" He asked as we reached the stable doors.

"The Eldahini believe it to have just been an opened portal that shut after a few moments," I replied as I opened the door for him. "They do not know that something came through."

Gandalf paused and looked at me knowingly. "The Eldahini."

I stopped, realizing that the term had slipped into words so easily. One look at Gandalf and I knew he had heard too. "Aye, the Eldahini. So you have heard the tales as well?"

"They are spreading like wildfire," the wizard said as he ducked into the stable. I recognized the old grey mare he had been using the past few years to travel. My own stallion was untethered and grazing the hay next to it. Gandalf proceeded towards the pair. "I cannot find their origins, but from what I can tell, these stories seem to be accurate. A little too accurate. As if someone who knows them intimately has begun all of this."

I quickly stroked the head of my horse as I hopped onto his bare back. "I have just now heard stories that are so personal to them…some I myself have never heard but that to me sound like truth. Few know such stories, Gandalf. I, my brother and sister, Haldir, my father, my grandparents, you, and Estel are all I can think of. Not even Orophin and Rúmil know these tales that I have heard told to great crowds in common pubs."

"I know," Gandalf said with a nod before swinging himself onto the mare. "I have told no one, not even Saruman, the full extent of the Eldahini's past. And no one you have mentioned would betray their trust so completely. No, there is a different source to this. One that I fear may lie East."

This news chilled my heart. I looked up at the old wizard, fearful for the young ones that looked to his family for guidance. "Gandalf, they knew their names."

This startled the wizard. "They what?"

I nodded. "Their Elven names, the names we gave them, common as they are amongst the Eldar. Not their true names."

"The names must not have reached the far off towns that I know of," Gandalf said almost to himself. "Indeed, there have been some more vague recountings of deeds done here in Middle-Earth that I fear to have come from the Dúnedain, but I never thought they would name names."

I sighed, a dark foreboding growing in my heart. "In these times, this could quickly become legend."

The Grey Pilgrim looked at me with a sad smile. "I fear it already has."

We rode well into the night.


	26. My Strength and the Trouble It Brings

A/N: **EXTREME WARNING!** I know I rarely go beyond PG-13, but I am rating this chapter an extremely hard R. Repeat, **this chapter is rated a very hard R!** Rating is for extreme violence, graphic content, sexual situations, darkness, and general all around badness. Please, read with caution.

Oh, and we have jumped about three months into the future, resulting in Gandalf and Elladan being in Lórien.

-----------------------------------------

"Wake up!"

Xander Harris woke to a very sharp pain in the back of his head. After a groggy moment, he rolled over to see that the sharp pain had been caused by his very large boot. And it seemed the boot had come from a very pissed looking Spike.

Xander sat up in bed, wincing as the pain in his head became more apparent. "Damn it, Spike!"

Spike scowled at Xander, tossing the other boot at the boy. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone sleep as much as you."

Xander snorted as he clambered out of bed, rubbing at his sleep-numbed face. "If you had the graveyard patrol instead of the nice morning one, you'd probably sleep in, too."

Spike just looked at him, then sighed and turned to his side of their room. "I only need six hours. Average is eight. But I don't think anyone really needs ten."

Xander rolled his eye then staggered to the wash basin. After a quick scrub of his arms, face, and neck, he grabbed the clothes he'd set out the night before, or rather that morning before he fell into bed.

He glanced up at Spike as he pulled the tunic and shirt on over the underclothes he normally slept in. "Anything interesting today?"

Once Xander was marginally decent, Spike opened up the drapes to reveal a beautiful mid-afternoon sun shining through the trees of the Elven city. "Not unless you count Orophin pushing Elrohir into the Silverlode interesting."

Xander snorted as he grabbed a clean eye patch from the bookcase. "Bet that went over well."

"Just be sure to steer clear of Elrohir this evening," Spike advised as he grabbed a plate of venison and cheese and handed it to the much younger man. "He's not in the mood."

"Thanks," Xander murmured as he accepted the plate from spike. He sat down on his bed and began stuffing his face. "Where's Giles today?"

Spike shrugged. "I think he said something about meetin' with Earl Grey again."

"Gandalf?" Xander asked through a mouthful of venison. The wizard had arrived in Caras Galadhon in the company of Elladan several weeks ago. Xander hadn't had much of a chance to actually sit down with Gandalf, but he knew Giles had made the best friend of his life. He and the wizard were likeminded and had spent countless hours locked away together, More than Giles had ever done with even Celeborn. But the wizard was supposed to only be passing through and had been there over a month. "How long is he stayin' anyways?"

"Dunno," Spike said with a shrug. Spike liked the old wizard, that much was obvious to everyone, but Xander had noticed the way the blond man had been watching Gandalf. He was suspicious of something, and Xander couldn't help but agree. As much time as Gandalf had spent with Giles, he spent double that with Celeborn and Galadriel, in heavy discussions that no one, not even Giles, was invited to join. "The way he, Galadriel, and Celeborn are at it, I'd say awhile."

Xander glanced upward towards Celeborn's study. "I wonder what they do every night?"

Spike shrugged it off, but even with one eye Xander could see how much the meeting bothered Spike. Still, Spike didn't like to talk about it. "Ah, let 'em have their li'l club. We've got more things to worry about."

Xander sighed as he looked at the desk in the middle of the room. It had become a gigantic workstation since the day after Spike's arrival. Every day at some point, each of the Scoobs would come in and work for an hour or so and add a little bit to it. Their Book of the Future, one they were making so that they might be able to help in a small way. In it they had written, in English, where the Ring of Power could be found, how Gandalf was going to find it, what Xander and Willow could remember of the Fellowship, and any other tidbits they might have been able to recall, such as Arwen and Aragorn. Also, they left very detailed advice for every scenario they could imagine and personal letters to each of their many friends. The plan was to give Galadriel and Celeborn each a lettering key to translate the Latin letters into Elven ones at some point in the near future, then to hide the book so that if something were to happen to the Scoobies, they would find it.

But for all their work, the book had very little fact in it. No matter how they tried, there was little more they could impart other than the location of the Ring. Which Xander was pretty sure Galadriel and Celeborn had figured out anyways. It frustrated him. "I still don't think it'll help them out very much."

Spike shrugged again, his dismissive attitude a silent agreement. "Gotta do something."

"Yeah," Xander said bitterly. "I still don't get why we don't just get Buff and Faith back here and take the Ring to Mordor now."

Spike rolled his eyes in frustration. "Because whether we like to believe it or not, we've all got a little dark in us. Me, the Slayers, Red, and the Watcher for sure, and probably you and the Bit, too, the Bit from bein' what she is, you from livin' where you did and goin' through everything. We try to get that Ring from one corner of the map to the other, odds are one of us would fall long before we made Mordor. And we've proven how capable we are when one of us goes bad."

"I still think if Dawn carried it, we'd be fine," Xander argued. "We're strong enough."

"None of us know that for sure," Spike replied sharply. "Not now, it's too soon. Maybe someday, we will be strong enough. We have to be smart about this."

"So what?" Xander asked, more than a bit frustrated. "We wait for some imaginary test that'll never come so it can tell us we're ready? We're never gonna know. Yeah, falling is a real danger, but if we go now, while Sauron's as weak as possible, we stand a real chance of avoiding something huge."

Spike raised a brow. "You don't think you'd want it? You think you would withstand that lust?"

"I know it," Xander replied more confidently than he felt. "You said it yourself, we work best as a group. We keep each other in check."

Spike closed the distance between them, glowering at him darkly. "I know a few things about lust."

"Yeah, I get that," Xander replied coolly.

"Not Fluffy," Spike drawled. "I'm talking about that deep lust, the lust that gets you where you live, gnaws on your soul and takes a little piece of you away whether you give in or not. Felt it as a demon, that want for power, for completion, for the kill. Felt it chipped, when the power was taken away from me, dangled like a soddin' worm on a hook just before me. Felt it with a soul, the need, the drive. Feel it now that the lust is gone, softly echoed in every Orc slain, every battle waged. Bloodlust. And that Ring would be lust personified."

"Personified?" Xander repeated, more than a little uncomfortable by Spike's very intense description. "When did you get poetic?"

Spike opened his mouth to reply, then turned away quickly. "Never mind."

Xander stood and nodded as he searched for a way to change the topic. "So, we gotta few hours to kill before dinner. After that, I really have to get working on Dawn's new wardrobe. Not to mention about a million errands."

"I picked your boots up for you," Spike said with a nod at the boots he'd used against Xander. "Those should fit better. And I dropped the pieces of our bows off. Yours can be fixed. I need a new one."

Xander raised an eyebrow. It was a well-known fact that Spike had in the few years he had been in Middle-Earth gone through as many bows of the Galadhrim as an Elf did in about a hundred. "How many is that this year?"

"Four," Spike replied with an impish grin. "Celeborn's getting' pissed."

"Maybe if you didn't use them to have mock-sword fights, he'd be a bit more understanding."

They both looked to the door to see Dawn leaning against the frame. Spike nodded at her. "Bit. Where'd you run off after lunch?"

"Haldir," was her one-word reply. "Jerk says just because we're all speaking again is no reason not to complete my training."

"That's your own fault, Dawny," Xander pointed out.

Dawn turned her head and glared at Xander. "I still blame you."

"Where's Wills?" Xander wisely changed the subject.

"With Galadriel," Dawn replied as she hopped up onto Spike's bed, jumping up and down, looking bored. "They're relaxing down on the ground."

Spike smacked her of his bed with the broad side of his sword, causing her to yelp. "Tiring session, ducks?"

Dawn jumped back onto the floor, rolling her shoulders back. "Mine wasn't bad, but Willow's starting the next level in healing techniques. I'm wiped when I do minor stuff like simple fractures and cuts. They're doing things like organ damage. Won't be long before she can heal mortal injuries."

Xander shuddered, getting goosebumps. "Strange."

Dawn frowned slightly. "You okay, Xander?"

He shrugged dismissively. "Well, I know Wills is strong and everything with healing, she's healed the dying and the dead. But…"

"She used dark magics to do that," Spike finished.

Xander nodded. "I didn't know she'd ever be able to do something like that again without it taking over her."

Dawn clucked her tongue in agreement. "As Faith said, beaucoup de mojo."

Spike sighed, looking out at the hot, sunny afternoon. "How do you two feel about going down to the river? Up for a swim?"

Xander raised an eyebrow. "Swimming in Celebrant? It's freezing."

"I'm hot," Spike explained shortly. "And it is the middle of summer."

Xander was skeptical but this suggestion seemed to excite Dawn. She jumped and clapped her approval. "Let's skip dinner! It's totally light late enough to have a picnic."

Xander sighed, then nodded. "Let's go grab Willow, run it by her."

Dawn smiled widely "This is going to be so great, I've been wanting to have a picnic by the river for, like, ever!"

She disappeared out the door, leaving Spike and Xander to follow her, which they did but at a more leisurely pace. "You had to pick swimming to cool off?" Xander murmured to the ex-vampire quietly as they strolled down the stairs to the ground. "Couldn't go find that elleth you've been stringing around for about a month?"

Spike raised an eyebrow, then smirked cockily. "My arrangement with Ivrin is honest. Besides, I need to cool down, not catch fire."

Xander laughed then they both fell silent as they wandered down the winding stair. A very impatient Dawn was waiting for them at the bottom. Keeping the younger girl in check by grabbing the back of her dress and keeping her with them, the trio followed the path down to the glen where Galadriel kept her Mirror.

Galadriel was filling a pitcher of water in the natural spring that fell into the glen. When she saw the three of them, she smiled warmly in greeting, then nodded to an area of the glen off to the side.

Willow was lying spread-eagled there on the soft ground, staring up at the sky above drowsily. Xander smiled, nudging her slightly with his foot. "Hey."

"Ugh…" she groaned as her gaze ticked to him. "I think my head exploded."

Xander looked at her seriously for a moment, then shook his head. "Nope, it's still there."

"We're gonna go swimming," Dawn said perkily as she fell to her hands and knees beside Willow. "Wanna come?"

"Swimming?" Willow repeated doubtfully, raising her head slightly to look at them.

"In Celebrant," Xander explained, not felling much more confident than Willow sounded.

She relaxed back onto the ground. "Too cold."

Dawn shook her head, refusing to take no for an answer. "It's, like, ninety out here."

"Feels colder," Willow murmured sleepily.

"Okay," Spike said as he bent down and grabbed the redhead and scooped her up into his arms. "Up you go."

"No…" Willow protested weakly.

Spike carried her over to the steps, then planted her back on the ground, standing. She just looked down. "My feet are too far away."

Xander glanced up at Galadriel, who was filling the Mirror with the water. "We won't be back for dinner."

She nodded, her smile encouraging. "Be sure to be back before night falls. I sense a storm brewing."

Xander, whose border patrol started just after nightfall grimaced when he heard this, thinking of a humid, wet, sticky night out on the forest that was to come. "Swell."

"We will," Dawn replied, giving the she-Elf a large grin. "Oh, and could you tell Giles where we are?"

Galadriel didn't reply, but instead frowned down into her Mirror.

"Galadriel?" Dawn tried again, drawing the others attention to the disturbed elleth. Again, Galadriel did not reply "Naneth?"

"Hiril'ní n?" Spike tried, concerned.

Willow, her strength miraculously back now that something serious was going on, broke away from Spike and approached Galadriel cautiously. "Something wrong, Nana?"

"The Mirror…" Galadriel said slowly, eyes searching the water for something. "I can no longer see far within."

Xander glanced at Dawn, who looked extremely concerned at this news. "What does that mean?"

"The Mirror's not working, not showing her anything," Dawn explained quickly.

"No," Galadriel contradicted. "I see myself."

"It's broken?" Xander said, feeling a bit nervous at this. The Mirror was Galadriel's main source to the outside world. It was important. "We need to unbreak it, right?"

Spike sighed and rolled his eyes. "Yes, Harris, a little scotch tape and the mystical mirror will be as good as new."

Xander frowned. "Duct tape."

"There is a warning here," Galadriel stated gravely.

Willow approached the Mirror, biting her lip anxiously. "Maybe it'll work for me."

Dawn nearly choked "I doubt it."

Spike, Xander, and Dawn looked at each other and grinned, despite the serious situation. For all of Willow's magical abilities, divination had never been her strong point. And the Mirror had only worked once for her when they had first arrived in Lothlórien. Ever since then, it was commonly known that Willow was only able to see a large pair of blue eyes when she looked into the Mirror, try as she might to see something else. It didn't help the situation when Dawn proved to have a natural knack for scrying with the Mirror. The more frustrated Willow got with the situation, the more amusing it was to everyone else.

"GODDAMN BLUE EYES!"

The three of them cracked up, allowing a few moments of tension to melt away. Then they settled down, mostly on account of Willow's death glare, and refocused on the problem at hand.

Dawn tried her hand next, being the one of the pair who could actually work the Mirror. "There's nothing mystically wrong with it. But I see what you mean."

"What?" Xander asked as he took a few steps closer. He had never seen anything in the Mirror and personally never hoped to. He was creeped out just thinking about it.

Dawn shrugged. "It's just my reflection."

"Maybe there's something wrong with it here," Xander said, approaching a little bit more at ease. He glanced the pedestal over, then looked at the actual Mirror itself. As Dawn said, it was just his reflection. "Maybe something natural has made it go kerfloey. I mean, it's not like it always has to be a supernatural problem that makes…"

Xander's train of thought faded as his image rippled in the Mirror. And the reflection that was left when all was said and done could not have been his. It was something out of a nightmare.

But it was him. At least it looked like him. Right down to the eye patch. But instead of the crisp, clean black eye patch he always wore, the one the other Xander wore was dirty and torn, a straggled piece of rag that seemed very loosely sewn together. His hair was cropped short again, just under his ears. But it was greasy, caked with dirt and grime. His face was filthy, streaked with what looked like ash, a strange scar on his cheek under his good eye that was red and ugly. But the look in his good eye…that was what made him so unrecognizable. It was hate. Pure hatred. Mixed in with lust and greed, and something so primal and evil…something he never had even imagined.

Slowly, the reflection pulled away until he saw himself fully. His clothing was so different than anything he had ever worn. Definitely not like the tunics he had become so accustomed to. It was black, a color he had not worn in years. Completely black. And so torn, that it looked like rags. He saw dark stains all over the cloth, knowing instantly that it was blood. And holding the strips of cloth together, he saw pieces of black armor, some dangerous looking with spikes and sharp edges. It almost reminded him of the armor some of the Orcs would sometimes wear, only it was much nicer, much more tailored to him.

The Mirror!Xander curled his lips into an evil grin, turning to look around the beautiful Elven city. And Xander could see, as his other self turned, that something wasn't quite right. It wasn't glowing as it normally did.

Then he saw something that nearly broke his heart. There were Orcs in Caras Galadhon. All over, hundreds. In his worst nightmares, he had never imagined those black creatures in the city of light. And the Elves, the females, the males, the children, everyone, were outnumbered, running, scared. He had never seen such panic amongst the normally calm and collected creatures. But they were terrified.

And the blood. The blood was everywhere. The dark black of Orc was puddling amongst the golden leaves in some places. But mostly it seemed to be the shining red of Elf blood. The crimson liquid ran thick upon the ground of Lothlórien.

And Xander watched as his reflection walked through the woodland city, just taking in everything with amusement. A smaller Elf child, one of the few left in the city, ran by his reflected self and the Mirror!Xander bent down and picked her up. Then he turned to a hunching Orc nearby and tossed the child straight to it.

Xander watched with horror as the Orc began to eat the child alive, his reflection walking away in disinterest. "What?"

And then he understood. He wasn't defending Lórien from the Orcs. He was _leading_ the attack.

As if to confirm the thought that had taken hold of him, an Orc hurried towards his reflection, bowing as it would to some noble. "My lord, we have taken the forest."

The other Xander smiled and nodded, taking a torch from a pillar next to him and running it across the base of a mallorn. The fire left a long trail of flame where it went, consuming the ageless wood greedily. The Mirror!Xander thrusted the torch towards the Orc. "Destroy it. Leave none alive. The males first. Take what sport you can from the females as reward for your pains, then kill them. What children you find are to be used for work and food."

The Orc bowed again, scraping as to a god. "Yes, my lord. To your victory. And the victory of your mighty power."

The reflection of Xander waved the Orc off and the real Xander couldn't help but notice the glint of metal and a large onyx-like stone on his right hand. His reflection turned towards the horde of Orcs rampaging around him, grinning in triumph. "Burn it all down!"

"XANDER!"

The voice was beautiful, calm, and all around him. That was when Xander realized he was no longer above the Mirror looking down into it. He was in the Mirror, yet still apart from the reflection. He could walk the blood stained land of Caras Galadhon and the very ground rippled with each step. Every tree he touched…even the air would move as he breathed. But he could not change a thing around him. He moved to attack the reflection of himself and passed right through.

"Captain."

The voice was rough, hoarse, filled with lust and malice, mutated from the innocent one he knew so well. He turned almost in sync with his reflection and watched as she glided like a fierce predator lioness down the steps that led up to the talan they had called home for so many years. The flames on the mallorn seemed to part before her, not singing a hair on her body, and then snaked there way back to the wood they hungrily consumed after she had passed. She was wearing almost nothing at all, just what looked to be a single foot-wide piece of red satin cloth wrapped around her that floated across her skin showing off everything but a few key places. She was perfect, not a hair out of place as it flowed down her bare back, not a spec of dirt on her creamy white skin…only a crimson liquid dotting the flesh of her stomach and face like freckles.

He saw his reflection look at her with the same fiery lust he had heard in the voice, his body leaning towards her nearly naked one in a sort of guttural need. "Butterfly," the reflection nearly growled. "I didn't see you come back."

She smiled knowingly at the Mirror!Xander, twisting sensually against him as he wrapped his arms around her. "I was making my own fun."

She brought up a hand from behind her back, stained red nearly to its elbow, and opened her palm. And Xander could feel his stomach turn violently as he stared at the blood-covered Nenya…still attached to the middle finger Galadriel always wore it on.

The reflection of Xander smiled and casually removed the finger, tossing it aside. Then he lifted the still creamy white hand and slid the ring down onto her ring finger, for the middle finger already had a ring on it…silver, set with a large purple stone. "Have a good time?"

She snaked her hands from his, placing the clean one on his armored chest, the bloodied one smearing across his cheek as she used her fingertips to trace the plane of his face. "They revere you. You spoil them far too much with your rewards."

And with a snap of her fingers, the reflection of Xander was naked and she was grinding against him, wrapping a long leg around him as she thrusted upwards. "You promise to take what sport you can?"

And Xander felt his world spin as he watched as his reflection pushed the warped version of Dawn up against a smoking mallorn, taking the young girl as the Orcs murdered the panicking Elves all around, the wood in flames.

Dawn grunted and smiled as the reflection drove into her, turning his head upwards with her bloodied hand. "Watch it burn."

"DON'T--"

That voice again, calm, beautiful, but pained.

And suddenly Xander was not in the burning wood of Lórien, but somewhere that had burnt already, though recently as it was still smoking. Not much was recognizable apart from the stone floor of a courtyard, a large stone pedestal, and a blackened dead tree on the side, but Xander knew in a moment that it wasn't Lórien, for which he was grateful. But his relief soon turned to horror when he saw deep red stains streaking the ground.

His eye moved of its own volition, following the closest crimson smear to the edge of the stone courtyard. Xander's gag reflex kicked in immediately and he turned sharply away from the naked mutilated corpse flung to the side of the area. But when he turned, he came only face to face with another set of remains, this one missing several vital pieces of anatomy. Xander closed his eye and jerked away, not being able to stand the looks on the faces he knew so well. In life, it had been easy for him to tell the twins apart…in death, all he could see was blood.

Xander blinked his tearing eye open, freely moaning in disgust, not caring if anyone heard him. When he finally focused on the scene before him, events played out so that he only noticed three more things.

The first thing he saw was her. When he had first seen her in Caras Galadhon with her dark hair, flawless skin, and deep blue eyes, he had been shocked into silence, her beauty so awed him. But as she hung, dripping, from the burnt out tree, empty eyes staring right into his soul, Xander felt revulsion. And when he realized that most of the thick puddles of red he was standing in belonged to her, his strength gave way and he fell to his knees.

The second thing he noticed when he fell to the ground, for it put him n the same level as the Elf lying helplessly on the ground. He was alive, but just. And Xander knew instantly that he was the father he had heard so much about from the three other Elves lying or hanging dead in the ash garden. His eyes were just as dead as his three children's, reflecting nothing but the emptiness of the deep dark. Xander could tell he had seen everything that had happened in those ruins.

The third thing Xander noticed when the stone pedestal shifted. That was when he realized someone was sitting on it. Xander looked up and immediately wished he hadn't. "I…I'm ready to wake up now," Xander muttered to the swirling air around him. "Please, let me wake up."

But he received no answer. So Xander kept his eye focused on a clean spot on the blood stained stone between him and the dying Elf, still seeing what was taking place in his peripheral vision, but unwilling to look up. Even then, he could not escape the sound of it.

"Now…let's try again," he said as he cleaned his glasses with the edge of his shirt in that familiar manner. "It's really quite simple." Then he blew on the glasses and put them into place. "You take it off and you hand it to me." He looked down at the Elf as he would have looked down at any one of them when assigning them something easy to do. "It does not have to be any more difficult than that."

The Elf stay still, not even acknowledging the man speaking to him. Then, after a moment of stillness, his empty eyes slowly lolled down to meet the ones separated by a thin layer of plastic. "Never," he rasped out in a hoarse voice. "You…can take nothing more from me…than, than what you have already taken."

The horrible beyond-Ripper version of Giles simply thought it over for a moment, then nodded. "I'd like to test that theory."

Then, moving so suddenly that Xander couldn't help but look up, he pushed himself off the pedestal and brought a large sledgehammer he'd had hidden behind his back down on the Elf's right hand. The Elf didn't even make a sound.

"You could have been spared all of this," the Mirror version of Xander's mentor said as he bent down and grabbed the gold and sapphire ring from the remains of the hand. "Just given it up and gone to the seas. You brought this upon yourself."

"Justice will find you."

The man smirked slightly as he let the ring slide onto the finger next to another large silver and black ring. "I somehow doubt it. There's no one left to deal out justice."

Xander watched the man he held to be his father walk away from the Elf, not even having the decency to put him out of his misery.

The world shimmered again, and Xander found himself praying for anything but what he knew in his heart was coming. But still it came.

It was night when the world stilled again. Again, he did not know where he was. It was something made all of stone, some sort of a fortress built within the base of a mountain. Strange creatures that looked like Orcs were everywhere, with large inverted pentagrams painted on their bodies or armor in red. They didn't seem to be doing much just where he was at the moment. But he could hear the battle all around him. People, lots of people, were being massacred not far away. And the bodies of both men and Elves were everywhere.

Xander looked around, dreading to find what he was looking for. But when he found it, though he expected to see her, he was still stunned.

When his gaze locked onto her, he was pulled upwards and forwards to her, as if he were zooming in on something with a camcorder. She had an older man in much more ornate armor cornered. Somehow, Xander knew it was the king.

"Please…" he begged, looking around at his dying men.

She didn't even acknowledge the plea as her sword swiped cleanly through him.

"Retreat!"

She sighed, unsatisfied, as she bent down and picked up the severed head. She turned it around in some sort of forlorn examination, ignoring the war going on around her.

One particularly nasty looking creature approached her and bowed. "My lady, the survivors have barricaded themselves inside the Keep."

"Thank you, Lurtz," she said in a bored sort of tone. "Make sure the boys know, I want no survivors."

"Yes, my lady," the creature said, grinning slightly at the sight of the head in her hands. "What do you plan to do with that?"

She shrugged as she continued her too-close-for-comfort examination of the head. "I was thinking it would make a nice ashtray."

"Has it truly come to this, Buffy Summers?"

Xander watched as the noble Slayer he had known smiled widely, tossing the head aside as she turned to face down the tired and sad form of Gandalf the Grey. "I suppose it has." Then, without taking her eyes off of Gandalf, she told the creature she'd called Lurtz, "Go. If he's here, the halflings can't be far."

Gandalf watched the creature go, before he stepped closer to the warped!Slayer. "I'm afraid you'd be mistaken."

"Then they're in Minas Tirith with Aragorn?" Buffy said, grin widening when Gandalf frowned harder. "Bet that'll make Willow real happy."

Gandalf's eyes were so sad as he looked at her. "It pains me to see you diminished to this."

Buffy ignored his statements as she brought her sword to bear. "You know, Grey Man, I always liked you. You were really nice. Helped us out. So I'm going to give you this one chance. Take off that ring there."

Xander followed her sword as the tip hovered a few inches before the wizard's right hand and the gold and ruby set ring he wore upon it. "Give it to me," the blonde girl continued, "and I'll let you walk away from this. I'm supposed to kill you. But, as evident when I gutted the piece of shit that was Saruman, I don't always do what I'm supposed to. You could leave this place, go to the Grey Havens, what little is left of them, find a ship, and sail on to Valinor where none of this can ever touch you. Just give me the ring on your finger, I'm not asking for the One. Give it to me, and live."

Then her smile disappeared as she glowered darkly at the wizard before her. "Don't, well, I'll have to take it. And I won't have an incentive to disobey my orders."

Gandalf stood straight and tall. "You will have to take it from me, Buffy Anne. It is not mine to give."

"I hate to hear that," Buffy said with a small shrug. "I really did like you."

Xander couldn't watch. He looked away to where several of the creatures were pounding at the door to the inner fortress with a crude battering ram. They appeared to be almost through.

Then he heard a soft grunt, the familiar sound of metal piercing flesh, and he knew it was over. He turned back just in time to see Buffy pull her sword from the dead Istari's body. The ring she had wanted was already on her hand. She looked down at the corpse and smiled brightly. "Thanks."

Then there was a crash as the doors to the Keep gave.

"Helm's Deep is ours!"

Lurtz reappeared within seconds. "My lady, the women, children, and elderly are in the caves down below."

"Good," Buffy said as she rolled her shoulders. "I need a little fun."

"LET--"

Xander blinked and looked around as the voice echoed all around him. But he saw nothing. He turned to try and find Buffy again…

…but came face to face with Spike.

It was daytime. And he was no longer at the fortress. He was in a city. A quick look around and he knew from Arwen's diligent lessons in geography that he was in Minas Tirith.

They were standing outside the main gate to the city, watching as a huge wolf-shaped battering ram knocked the strong doors in. Spike was on horseback with four other Men, none of the like Xander had ever seen before. Hey seemed primitive, wild, and dark.

"C'mon, slime!" Spike shouted to the Orcs, urging them onward. "Push or shove!"

The door gave way, revealing a large number of Gondor's soldiers just inside.

One of the dark-looking Men near Spike turned to him. "My lord?"

Spike smiled in anticipation. "Welcoming committee."

"For Gondor!"

But the sheer number of Orcs, trolls, and evil Men quickly subdued the guards. Spike, a bit disappointed, turned to the man to his right. "Take your Men and sweep the lower levels. No prisoners."

"Sir?" another of the Men asked.

"They'll retreat uphill," Spike instructed. "Go as far as three, then secure the circles. No one gets out."

The Man looked up. "Should we wait for the Ladies to finish?"

Spike followed his gaze. "They can make their own fun."

Xander, against his better judgment, looked up as well. There were great dragon-like beasts circling the city, four in all. Three were controlled by the Nazgûl and controlling the lead dragon, Xander recognized one veiny, black hair and black-eyed girl.

He was instantly transported upwards, almost as if he were riding beside Willow on her beast. From his vantage point above, Xander could see the grand scale of the battle. He saw long dark hair and knew immediately that Faith was leading the rest of the Nazgû l in an attempt to seize and seal off the seventh circle before the soldiers retreated that far.

"Retreat!"

Willow just laughed, black hair billowing in the wind as she flew over the city on the creature.

"No!"

She conjured fireball after fireball, raining them down on the upper levels of the city, the only place people had to flee.

"Spare us, please, spare us!"

Xander understood the strategy as repulsive as it was. Sweep the first three levels. Take over the seventh. Force the people into the middle three. Burn it. Let the people decide how they best want to die: the sword, the fire, or the jump.

Suddenly Willow swooped down, eyes fixed on something on the sixth level. As the beast flew by the ground, she jumped off, landing in an area close to the mountain. Xander recognized immediately what was going on, for against the wall was huddled three scared Hobbits, one older, then two younger.

"Hello, boys," Willow greeted, then held out her hand expectantly. "You know what I want."

The older Hobbit was staring at Willow in fear, but he stepped forward between Willow and the two younger ones and held his ground. "No."

"No?" Willow repeated, almost amused. Then she flicked the hand she had outstretched and Xander was reliving his worst nightmare.

The skinless corpse of the old Hobbit fell to the ground, leaving the other two too stunned to move.

Willow ticked her gaze over to the two young Hobbits. "The fat one is next, and he won't be lucky enough to go so quick."

"Don't do it, Mr. Frodo," the huskier of the two told the dark-haired Hobbit.

Willow rolled her eyes. "Bored now."

The two bodies fell next to the other one. And a little chain lifted off of one of the masses of muscle and floated over to Willow.

Willow eyed the small circle of gold in her hand, eyes glinting wickedly in the firelight. "It's about the power."

"THIS--"

Xander was then transported to the top of the city. The flames of the lower levels were now burning in earnest, and from the sounds of it, many of the people of Minas Tirith were being burned alive along with their city. The Citadel wasn't as destroyed as the lower levels had been. There were a few bodies, mainly of the Citadel Guards, but his attention was caught by the Man hanging from the tree.

Unlike his love had been, he was not hanging by his neck. Instead, it was his arms that were bound to the higher branches, causing his broken body to drape down from it like a flag. He wore no armor, nothing but a pair of loose black breeches. The reason for his partial nudity was not to embarrass him, however. All along his arms and chest were long, shallow cuts. And from the amount of blood pooled beneath him, and his low breathing, Xander guessed he was very close to being dry.

Still she carved into him.

"Your highness," she crooned mockingly as she ran a sharp rock over a particularly mutilated portion of his chest. "Listen. Your kingdom celebrates your return."

"Please…" he rasped out, though what he was asking for, Xander couldn't have begun to guess.

She smiled widely as she ran the rock up over his sagging shoulders. "Don't you hear the cheers?"

A pained grunt told Xander he could hear them. The screams echoing as the flames took the people of Gondor.

"Can't you see them partying in the streets?" she continued, running the rock lightly down his stomach.

"The Elves will not let this go," he told her as his breathing became more shallow. "They will avenge the race of Men."

She smiled knowingly. "They probably would've…but Xander, Dawn, and Giles are taking care of that problem at this very moment." She tossed the rock aside and stood on tiptoes so her face was barely in inch away from his bloody one. "I can only imagine how Ripper sliced his way through Arwen's flesh. Makes me all hot and bothered just thinking about it."

He looked into her eyes, searching for something. "What have you become?"

Her smile widened. "A god."

"Faith…"

Faith grabbed Aragorn's head and licked a long wet trail through his blood and sweat to his ear. "Long live the King."

"HAPPEN!"

The world swirled again and he was somewhere else. Somewhere dark. Somewhere black. There were Orcs there, and primitive looking Men, Evil Men, and nine strange creatures covered head to toe in black robes.

They were all there too, all seven Mirror images of his family with himself included, all seven bastardized versions. They all seemed to still function as a loving family in the midst of all the insanity, standing together, bowing together.

"Most faithful of all my servants…"

Xander almost curled up at the sound of the voice. It was evil personified, deep and rumbling and all-consuming in a way nothing he had ever faced on Earth or Middle-Earth could even compare.

"We bring you a mighty gift, my lord," Buffy said, holding out her cupped hand to present the rings Xander had watched her, Dawn, and Giles take earlier by force.

The Three all rose out of Buffy's hand and disappeared into the void. "The Bearers?"

Dawn grinned maliciously. "Completely destroyed."

Giles cocked his head in amusement. "Grizzly ends, all."

"And with this, we pledge our undying loyalty unto thee," Willow said as she stood, holding before her the One.

The Ring of Power, too, floated up into the air, but it did not disappear. Instead, a creature, a man-like creature appeared around the Ring, with his finger in it. Though it was so fully armored that not an actual inch of it could be seen, Xander could not bear to look at it, instead focusing on the dark reflections of his family.

They were all smiling.

Xander watched his Mirror-image stare up at the creature in awe. "Middle-Earth is yours."

"Ours," the voice rumbled from the creature. "I will not forget thy services. Take the lands you conquered. Rule in my name. Be as you will. Take all you want."

Suddenly, the Men in the room began cheering. One particular Man stood, raising the sword in his hands high. "To the Rings of Power!"

"The Nine!"

The nine cloaked creatures stepped forward and raised their swords high in a salute to the creature.

"The Seven!"

Xander watched as he himself, Dawn, Giles, Buffy, Spike, Willow, and Faith stood as well and drew their swords, clapping them to their chests.

"The One!"

An ornate throne materialized behind the creature and it sat down. Everyone in the room watched on reverently as Sauron proclaimed himself ruler of Middle-Earth.

Xander's image raised his sword high into the air and shouted, "All hail Lord Sauron!"

"NO!" Xander screamed as the scene before him collapsed into what sounded and felt like a hurricane. He took no notice of the wind or the water rippling all around him, instead just kneeling on the ground, clutching at his stomach as grief overcame him.

"XANDER!"

Xander looked up, through the tears now coming, to see that he was no longer in that place of darkness, but instead in a place of pure light. And she was standing before him, more beautiful than he ever remembered her being. "ANYA!"

"XANDER!" Anya called to him over the roaring winds. She was shining so brightly, it almost hurt to look at her, but he wouldn't have turned away for anything the universe could offer him. "BE STRONG! IT'S UP TO YOU! IT'S YOUR TEST!"

"ANYA, WHAT DO I DO?" he yelled back, desperately reaching for her, but unable to move even a millimeter.

She just smiled at him and raised an arm. "XANDER! DON'T LET THIS HAPPEN!"

"No!" Xander screamed as he rocketed up into a sitting position, straining for her. "No, Anya!"

"Xander, calm down!"

The hands were on him everywhere and through the tears he couldn't see her light anymore. "Anya!"

"Harris, c'mon, man, it's us, c'mon, snap out of it!"

He felt something warm on his shoulders and the thunderous sound of the wind and the waves was quickly fading away. "Anya?"

"Come on, Xander, look at us, please…"

And the world slowly refocused into shades of red and green. "Willow?"

Willow was standing over him, face streaked with tears as she held a wet cloth tightly against her stomach. Holding her back by the shoulders was a concerned looking Giles. Xander looked around to see that he was in his bed in his room in Caras Galadhon. His legs were being held firmly down by Elladan and Orophin while Spike, Haldir, and Elrohir had a hold of his arms and shoulders. Dawn was sitting across the room on Spike's bed, letting Galadriel hold her as a mother would soothingly hold a frightened child. Standing just inside the door were Celeborn and Gandalf, both looking extremely disturbed by something.

Xander took several heavy breaths as he relaxed back into his bed, mind racing. The room was a mess, pillows and blankets everywhere and Willow, Dawn, Spike, and Giles all four looked exhausted. Willow and Dawn were in their nightdresses and Spike was only wearing a nightshirt tucked messily into a pair of breeches. There was a small table arranged by his bed with cloths and icy water and various different colored bottles. And when he looked down, he found that he himself was in his nightclothes, and wrapped in extra blankets.

"What…" Xander began, totally confused. "Where am I?"

Willow gazed down at him, teary-eyed and hopeful. "Xander?"

"What happened?" Xander asked, feeling Elladan, Elrohir, Haldir, and Orophin loosen their grips on him.

"Xander, you're in your room," Giles explained gently, still holding Willow back protectively. "What do you remember?"

"Uh…I, uh…the Mirror," Xander said, choosing to keep the rest to himself. "What happened? How did I get up here?"

"You don't remember anything else?" Spike asked softly, still holding Xander's shoulders tightly.

"Why?" Xander asked anxiously. "What happened? What time is it?"

Willow bit her lip in worry. "It's early, before sunrise. Xander, you've been unconscious for over three days."

Xander blinked, looking around the room in shock. "What?"

"You've been very sick, Xander," Giles continued, releasing Willow and sitting in a chair pulled up close to the bed. "You've had a very high fever that only broke just a few hours ago."

Xander scowled, confused. "Fever? Did…did we go swimming? Did I catch something?"

Spike snorted quietly. "Never made it swimming."

"You looked in the Mirror," Willow explained to her confused friend as she sat down on the bed beside him. "You froze. Literally, went stiff as a board for about ten minutes. You wouldn't respond to anything. Then you had a seizure. It only lasted a few moments, but, god, Xander, you scared us to death."

"You developed a high fever soon after," Spike continued. "You've been out since."

Xander blinked for a moment as he processed this. "Oh."

"What did you do?" Dawn asked from where she was still leaning against Galadriel.

Xander, starting to feel the illness being explained to him coupled with the weight of the dream, let himself be tucked back into bed by Willow. "I didn't do anything."

"You fixed the Mirror," Willow said. "It's working fine now."

Xander frowned at this news, fever slowed mind working hard to try ad figure out what that meant. _So…not a natural fever then. That means…it was all real. I wasn't hallucinating. _"Oh, god…"

"What did you see?" Galadriel asked, very gently but also very pointedly.

Xander looked to Willow. "What?"

She shook her head. "Nana couldn't see what the Mirror showed you."

Gandalf nodded. "It was a message for you, was it not, Alexander?"

Xander could only gaze at the roomful of people looking at him expectantly as a cold sort of terror slowly began to creep into his stomach.

"Xander?" Willow repeated.

Xander did not reply. He was too lost in the horror of what was to come.

----------------------------------------

A/N: Okay, that about does it for this chapter. Yes, there is a reason Xander has this "vision" and no you won't find out for a few chapters. Hope it's not as a disturbing read as it was a disturbing write.

Oh, and guys, c'mon, REVIEW! It isn't hard to click on something and leave a few words on your reaction. I have one loyal reviewer out of about one hundred and fifty members, and though I love and cherish Briana…1 of 150! Seriously, guys! We're all adults, and I give I whole lot of my free time and energy to type these things up. The least you can do is take five minutes from your busy schedules to give me a little feedback. It's all I ask!


	27. Dawn of the Living

--Dawn POV--

One. Two. Three. Four. Step. High block. Downward strike. Kick. One. Two. Three. Four. Counter. Step. Left-side block. Across stri--

I realized my mistake just a moment before the large wooden bow slammed hard into my stomach. I fell to the ground, clutching my side and cursing loudly at my error. The grass below cushioned me as I slumped down, eyes squinting hard at the boots that came to a stop just in front of me.

"How many times will we have to do this, Meluiell, until you desist from your foolish behavior and heed our instructions?"

I looked up at the four figures standing over me. They glowered down at me superiorly, each one appearing to be more than a bit frustrated with me. None moved to help me, instead continuing to glare.

I rolled my eyes as I pushed myself into a sitting position. "Elves…"

"Yes, we are, and if you ever have any hope of being marginally proficient with the blade, you will do as we say without question."

I had to bite my tongue before the multitude of Scooby-esque remarks flew out of my mouth to insult the Elves. Even I had to admit, they were helping me. They were beating me into a solid bruise, but they were helping.

I pushed myself back to my feet, running one hand over my loose cotton training dress to straighten it while my other pushed back the long strands of hair that clung to my sweaty face. "Okay, okay."

"Meluiell, it is important that you finish your training--"

"Yeah, I get it," I cut him off quickly as I grabbed the wooden staff I had been using to defend myself and used it to lean on. "No big, Hal."

My protector Elf stood tall, as scowly as I'd ever seen him. "My name is not Hal."

I shrugged and shifted half-heartedly back into the first position of the training sequence. I couldn't even find the strength to look up. "Whatever."

"No," Haldir barked coldly, easily slapping the staff from my grasp. He grabbed me by the arm and pulled me closer. I gasped at the slight pain that shot through my arm, looking up at Haldir in surprise. He had been angry with me before, but never had he hurt me. "Not whatever! You will master this, _Dawn_!"

The other three Elves watched on in silence. Rú mil, unlike his brother, could not speak English or Common Tongue or whatever the hell they wanted to call it this week. Neither could Tangrod or Dimkris, two of Haldir's more skilled Marchwardens. Not many of the Elves of Ló rien could, which I always found odd. They had never in their thousands of years took the time to learn the language most of the outside world used. Why not? Yeah, they lived in this ethereal wood where they never needed to use it hardly, but who knows what could happen? I mean, besides Galadriel.

Rúmil, Tangrod, and Dimkris just watched, also scowling at me, as I faced Haldir's wrath. I knew I was in trouble. The past few weeks of the training I had begged Haldir to give me had not been going as well as they should have. Haldir was frustrated. Rúmil and Orophin were frustrated, Orophin to the point that e had not even offered to help the past two weeks. It wasn't that it was too hard. It wasn't even that difficult. I just couldn't make myself focus.

It was always there, always on the edge of my mind. Ever since I heard that scream just nine months ago, I've felt it. If I was to be completely honest, it had been there since before the scream. Exactly when it started, I am not sure, it was so light at first, so easy to ignore or to confuse with something else. Pure dread. Pure despair. Pure terror. All mixed with something I had felt before we had fallen through the portal. Something I had felt whenever a vampire looked my way. Something I had felt when I was with Glory. The feeling that I was wanted, that I was going to be used for an evil purpose. The feeling that I was lusted for, a lust that would consume me.

It was the feeling that had been steadily growing for months. With the echoing scream that came again and again to me at night, I was losing myself, I knew. Then the thing with Xander happened.

Watching him having his seizure was one of the scariest things I had ever seen in my life. I could only stand there while he writhed on the ground. I stood and watched, Willow and Spike screaming in my ear, while it played out and after it was over, I still could only stare as Galadriel leapt into action. Then the three days that followed, long sleepless nights filled with nothing but cold dread and worry. And the feeling grew. It plagued me, from the little sleep I was made to take to the days I merely existed through like a walking shadow.

Xander awoke. He was physically fine. Giles, Spike, and Willow could all rest easy and regain the strength they lost to worry alongside Xander as he recovered from the lingering effects of the illness. But it didn't take long for all of us to see the haunted look in Xander's eye. Giles, Spike, and Willow were confused, they didn't know what was wrong, what Xander was feeling or why it was affecting him so. I don't know where it came from or why he felt it…but I knew what Xander was feeling. He was feeling it. The feeling. The same one that was haunting me.

It was five weeks since Xander fell ill. Three weeks since he was proclaimed fully restored to health. But he did not return to his duties as Marchwarden. He did not join the family for meals. On Midsummer, he disappeared for the entire length of the festivities. He did not even acknowledge my birthday. He was now the shadow, walking through the days and nights like a ghost. He rarely spoke. He hardly ever ate. He just was.

And the feeling was growing. Growing so much that it now controlled me physically. Like Xander, I could barely choke down any food. What little I did either burned in the pit of my stomach or came right back up. Recently, I had even taken to vomiting blood and bile. I was weakening quickly. My magic was gone, unable to be kept up. My physical strength was also leaving me. A reason that training was almost an exercise in failure.

And the worried eyes that followed me were beginning to see it.

I yanked my arm from Haldir's grasp, looking up to reassure him. "Haldir, chill. It's okay, really."

Haldir's eyes softened and he relaxed a bit. He sighed. "Boe nach istui berio lin."

(You must learn to protect yourself.)

"Iston berio nin," I followed his lead, slipping with ease into the Elven tongue I was practically fluent in for the sake of the others in our party. "Agoron ten lhû rem."

(I know how to take care of myself. Done it loads of times.)

Haldir gave me a knowing look as he bent down to grab my forgotten staff. "Beriol lin o vampire'lí n al-nathon sui i lû beriathach lin o glam."

(Defending yourself from your vampires will be much different than when you defend yourself from Orcs.)

I smiled and looked up at my friend, slipping back into English to say, "Like any Orcs could get past you and yours."

Haldir smiled half-heartedly backand held the staff out to me, recognizing with a small nod that my words were meant only for him. "Of course not here, I meant out in…"

I started to reach out for the staff, then stopped as I looked up at my friend's eyes. I recognized the look Haldir had, for it was something I had felt many a time. It was a deep sorrow mixed with a tinge of fear. It was beginning to creep upon all of my family and those who knew us. For time was catching up.

Time moved differently in Lórien. Every day seemed like a year and a year was nothing more than but a day. We had lived amongst the Elves for almost five years, five years in which we all became accustomed to put aside our differences. I saw all the Eldar of the wood as I would have seen a person on the streets of Sunnydale: just that, a person. I had become accustomed to seeing Galadriel and Celeborn as close family, calling them Nana and Ada in some personal moments. Arwen was quickly becoming a close friend. Haldir, Rúmil, and Orophin were the wanted kind of a pain in the butt. Elladan was a goofy son of a bitcka. And Elrohir was…well…he was. I no longer thought of them as these powerful, noble creatures that were higher on the totem pole than I was. To me, they weren't these timeless, all-knowing beings. They were just mine, the way Xander, Willow, Giles, Spike, Faith, and Buffy were mine.

But time was catching up. The people of Lórien weren't mine. They were Elves. I was not an Elf. I was human. And the five years that passed in such a whirlwind amongst them…five years was a very long time. I wasn't a kid anymore. I was twenty-one. The others were twenty-seven, with the obvious exceptions of Giles and Spike. Actually, I wasn't really sure how old Spike was, biologically speaking. Probably late twenties. And Giles was pretty far gone.

Time catching up meant this. Us getting out of this world we really weren't supposed to be in. The day that we would have to leave Lórien.

Haldir feared that day because he knew what leaving meant. We were mortals. We would die. Soon, for him. Perhaps even soon for us.

"Listen, no big," I said lowly as I snatched the staff out of the Marchwarden's hands. I blinked and looked around, smiling awkwardly at Rúmil, Tangrod, and Dimkris. "Gerim…garo post?"

(Can we…take a break?)

Rúmil looked at his brother and inclined his head slightly. Haldir sighed reluctantly, then nodded at me. "Niben min."

(A small one.)

I smiled brightly and gave Haldir a playful shove as I skipped past. "Hannad lle."

(Thank you.)

"Not so fast," Haldir called to me. I turned to look at him. He smiled and tossed a bag to me. "You take your rest, then you will work with the bow."

I made a face at the Elf before turning back. Ignoring the nods that the others gave me, I made the short walk out of the clearing and to brook that was trickling slowly east towards the Anduin. The clearing was peaceful and out of the way, near the borders yet not too close, the perfect place for Haldir and the others to teach me.

I sat down next to the brook, pulling the small block of cheese and loaf of bread out of the bag. It was a sparse lunch, but light enough to spar on.

"Sen istannach nê l daw io."

(You knew this routine but three nights ago.)

I looked up to find Rúmil standing over me. I groaned inwardly. Of the three brothers, Rúmil was the "middle child" and therefore the most complex. While Haldir was usually easy to read and Orophin was usually open enough with his feelings to not need to be read, Rúmil was impossible to read. When he wasn't joking with his brothers, the Elf was like a blank canvas.

Normally, his stoic nature wasn't that big of a deal, something we all accepted. It reminded me a little of Angel, though I could never bring myself to say it out loud. But with him standing over me, looking down at me like that…

I shivered slightly and turned my concentration to the piece of cheese in my hand. "Aye, dan…gerin arnediad nad bo ind'ní n."

(Yeah, well…I got things on my mind.)

Rúmil continued to gaze down at me, his face reveling nothing about his inner thoughts. "Alexander?"

I stopped picking at the cheese in my hand and sighed. "Aye. Sen na min."

(Yes. That is one.)

"Erniethan?" Rúmil guessed again.

"Gwannathant," I replied sadly. "Gevedi Buffy, Faith, a Aragorn ned Imladris."

(He's going to leave soon. To meet Buffy, Faith, and Aragorn in Imladris.)

Rúmil finally looked away from me, turned his gaze to the rippling brook just ahead. "Aye, iston."

(Yes, I know.)

"We should go with him," I whispered before I even thought about it. And as soon as the words were out, I knew. The warnings in my head, the pain in my heart…they were all screaming at me to go. To run away. And I wanted to.

I didn't belong in Lórien. Neither did Spike, Xander, or Giles. Not even Willow, as much as she liked to pretend. Time had caught up, but I wasn't ready for it. Wasn't ready to move on. But I wanted to be ready.

"Meluiell."

I looked up to find Rúmil's eyes once again on me. And when my eyes met his, he smiled. And he offered me his hand to help me to my feet. And something about the simple act touched me. I was going to change, that much I knew. But I could always change back.

I took Rúmil's hand and he pulled me up. "Hannad lle, Rúmil."

He nodded and stepped back to allow me to brush the dirt from my behind. I had to actually think about not making a face. Elves could have a great big mud wrestling tournament and come out of the pit without a speck of anything on them. Okay, maybe that's a little extreme. But still, the Elves barely had a hair out of place if they didn't want it. Definitely one of the top ten on my list of _Most Annoying Things About Elves _list.

I was right in the middle of behind sweepage when Rúmil stiffened beside me. I turned to give him a look only to find him in full Elf-warrior mode. His eyes were cold, his gaze far-off. I followed his line of sight to see that Haldir, Tangrod, and Dimkris were nowhere to be found.

Suddenly, my wrist was in a firm grip and Rúmil was in front of me. He pulled me off to the side of the clearing and, without saying a word, lifted me up into a tree.

"Daro," was his whispered explanation.

(Stay.)

Then he was gone.

I huddled in the safety of the high branches, watching the clearing for some sign of the Elven guards. It was so odd. I couldn't help but be a little frightened. For all my ominous feelings, the thought that something could reach me here in the safety of Lórien was almost a foreign concept.

I waited. I watched.

Then, almost as soon as Rúmil was gone, he was back.

He appeared right in front of me, so fast I almost thought it was magic. He took my hand and helped me down. I looked at him, completely confused. "Man na ten?"

(What is it?)

Rúmil turned and nodded across the glen. I followed his line of sight to see Haldir, Tangrod, and Dimkris coming back into the clearing followed by four other Marchwardens and… "Orophin?"

Orophin pulled on something behind him. I blinked as someone stumbled into the clearing. The person lost their footing and fell to the ground. Orophin looked up at his brothers and sneered, "Sen adan nant hir ethanol i edrein."

(This Man was found crossing the borders.)

A Man. I had only seen one of the race of Men since arriving in Middle-Earth…Aragorn. I was instantly intrigued. And, after taking a closer look, he was a young Man at that. Not that that meant much, because Aragorn totally looked to be in the twenty-ish range and was actually, like, forty something, but still. This Man looked to be in his early to mid-twenties. He was handsome, that I immediately saw. Little hormonal me, cooped up in this forest in what are supposed to be my extremely fun years with absolutely no one to date. Not that a few of the Elves hadn't tried, Orophin and Tangrod included, but I had a firm no-Elf policy.

The Man _was_ handsome. And he was clean, something totally out of the norm, well, at least for Aragorn when he first came to Lórien…and for that matter Spike. He was dressed very different from Aragorn, more like a medieval farmer. He was in loose grayish slacks, a coarse linen shirt, a brown tunic, and an ugly grey wool cloak. He had the whole shoulder length hair thing going on, but it was clean, not greasy, and a little wavy. The color was a very dark brown, same as his big eyes. He had facial hair, as Arwen had explained was normal for most non-Elves, but it was tamer than Aragorn's, much more an Ashton Kutcher type scruffy than anything. Okay, so maybe he wasn't just handsome…maybe he was _hot_. But being not only a twenty-one-year-old virgin, which is valid lifestyle wise, but being a twenty-one-year-old that has had two kissing experiences, both under extreme supernatural circumstances, that were my only source of sexual anything that occurred almost six years ago…do you see where I'm going with this?

But the thing about this Man that was the most attractive was the feeling I got off of him. He radiated peace, calm, gentleness, and at the same time was facing several very cold and menacing looking Elves with determination. It was something I had seen in very few people, especially males…the four coming quickly to mind being Xander, Spike, Giles, and Angel.

The Man looked up, fear shining clearly in his eyes even though his face was a twisted imitation of Willow's resolve face. "Please…I only come to ask for aid."

I understood immediately, not only his words but what must have happened to this Man to bring him to a situation like this. None of the Elves present spoke any English…Common Tongue…whatever. None but Haldir. And he's proven time and time again how likely he was to shoot first and ask questions later. Which I could tell from the expression on his face that he was likely to do in the present situation.

"Stop!" I shouted, pulling away from Rúmil and running up to the other Elves that seemed hell-bent on making this Man pay at least in humiliation for breeching their precious borders. I reached the group as all eyes turned to me. "Let him go!"

Haldir looked at me, face calm but eyes blazing. "Meluiell--"

I ignored Haldir, as per usual, and went straight to the source of the problem. I stepped right up into Orophin's face and shoved him away from the Man. "Leitho ho!"

(Release him!)

Haldir moved to grab me but froze when I shot him what knew had to be one of my nastiest looks ever. Confident that I had sufficiently quelled the major testosterone flood, that is if Elves had testosterone, I turned and bent down next to the Man to check on him. "Are you all right?"

The Man looked up at me with his deep, chocolatey eyes with such relief and a bit of hope and I felt something inside me melt. "You understand me, my lady?"

"Yes, of course," I said quickly and rose, hoping no one in the group, especially the Man and Haldir, would notice my rapidly heating cheeks. I held out a hand to him to help him up. After a moment's hesitation he accepted it. As I helped him rise, I motioned with my free hand to Haldir. "So can my friend, here."

Haldir gave me a look that was something akin to great annoyance. I really could have cared less. He must have seen so, for he quickly rounded on the Man that stood at my side. "Who are you and what business do you have crossing our borders?"

"My lord Elf," the Man started in a formal tone, bowing very lowly before standing tall before Haldir. "I am Jarnel, son of Aglarrak. I have been sent to the wood to seek the aid of the Lord and Lady."

Haldir acknowledged his formality with his own polite if not stiff nod. "I am Haldir, Captain of the Guard."

Jarnel opened his mouth as if to reply, then stopped. He held Haldir's gaze for a few moments as if he were searching for something, then cast his eyes down and held his hands out in supplication. "Please, sir, I only seek an audience with your lord and lady."

Haldir eyed the Man for several moments as he contemplated the request. Then he stepped back. "If you wish to see the Lord and Lady of the Wood, then you will."

I let out a breath that I hadn't realized I had been holding. It was arranged among the Elves that Haldir, Rúmil Tangrod, Dimkris, and one of the other Elves called Letheir would lead the Man into the city. As they made the quick preparations, Haldir threw my things at me. "You come with us. Stay close to Rúmil."

I was smart enough not to argue with him when in that sort of mood. "Okay."

We started the good-sized hike back to the city with Haldir in the lead. I trudged alongside the stoic Rúmil, unhappy that our training session had been cut short, but very intensely interested in the Man that walked a few paces behind us. Tangrod walked along the Man's left while Letheir stayed close to his right. Dimkris brought up the rear.

We had gone about halfway when we had to climb one particularly high hill. The paths of Lórien were pretty smooth and, while some were a little winding, most were pretty straight, the one we just happened to be following went up that hill at a strange angle. I even had problems with it sometimes. So it wasn't all that surprising when the Man stumbled along the path at that point. What was surprising was that, unlike most people, he didn't fall down the hill, his sure footing was able to save him from that fate, but instead he stumbled upwards and, is it so happened, right into me.

I was the one that fell down the hill.

Or at least I started to fall down the hill. The Man acted more quickly than the Elves in our company and swiftly slid down beside me and scooped me up. Rúmil shouted and Tangrod had an arrow notched and ready to fire before I could blink. It all happened faster than I could register, but in the end all five Elves were facing off with the young Man that cradled me in a firm grasp.

He ignored the lethal Elves, looking first to me. "I am so sorry, my lady," he said in a panicked tone. He gently placed me back on my feet and I know without turning that the Elves, who were always annoyingly quick on the uptake, were now just watching us instead of targeting the Man. He gave me an embarrassed look. "Please forgive me."

I gave him an awkward smile and shrugged uncomfortably. "No, it's fine,"

Then we started the long trek homeward again. Although this time, Rúmil was far less concerned with me and wasn't glued to my side. This was probably why the Man was able to come up next to me without any interference from the overprotective Elves.

I felt his eyes on me long before he said anything. Indeed, we were up the hill, down it, and about another quarter of a mile along the valley between it and the next before he dared speak. And when he did, it was only to comment on the sour look that had formed on my face at the sly looks Haldir thought I didn't notice. But the Man did finally speak. "Are you well, my lady?"

I looked slightly over my left shoulder, where he was walking a little closer than a hostage should be. I pulled my long, slightly wild hair around to the right so I could face him better. "Yeah, thanks."

But he barely heard me. Instead, his eyes found my left ear and stayed there. Too late, I realized my mistake, even as he choked out, "You are not one of the Elves."

I felt all the color drain from my face. Literally felt it, cold an panicky and numb. I had to work to keep my voice steady. "Oh, uh, no."

"How odd," He breathed, studying me with more intent eyes. "You seem…"

"What?" I asked, feeling that unreasonable panicky fear that he might possibly know who…and _what…I was._

He looked down, as if embarrassed. "Well, forgive me for being so forward, but…are you of the race of Men?"

I felt the fear leave me and a giddy sort of adrenaline rush take its place. My mind raced quickly, for this I wasn't sure how to answer. The technical answer was no, I wasn't of the race of Men. But it was the closest thing to human, so I guess…"Pretty much."

The Man frowned. "Excuse me?"

I almost laughed and had to quickly push it down. While it was a miracle that English and the Common Speech were pretty much identical, barring the alphabets, there was still sometimes, well, most times a communications barrier. It of course existed with our fun form of Scooby speak, that went without question. Some people back in Sunnydale barely understood our wacky way of talking. But it existed in simple ways, too, ways I never would have even guessed at. Even for Giles, with his tendency to use specific terminology that didn't exist yet.

I simply smiled at Jarnel, falling back a few steps so that we were walking alongside one another instead of him behind me. "Yes."

Jarnel's face broke out into a wide, beaming grin. He bowed slightly to me without missing a step, and breathed a little easier as if a great weight had been taken from his shoulders. "It is my good fortune to meet you here, lady. A comfort to be near one of our people in so foreign a place."

I almost felt bad, knowing that I wasn't exactly like him. But then I reminded myself of all the different kinds of Men. There were the Dú nedain, the Eorlings, the Númenóreans, the Beornings, the Middle Men, and so on and so forth. He had no idea what kind of "Man" I was, I didn't know what kind he was. He just knew I was Mortal and very much like him. And that's all he needed to know to relax a bit.

"And to be near a lady as beautiful as yourself…" he continued, trailing off as I looked back up at him, slightly taken back by his words. He just smiled. "Well, my lady, I feel that the One has blessed me."

Suddenly I felt like I was sixteen again and in High School. Only concept that was registering in my mind was that there was a pretty boy in front of me. A pretty boy with ruggedly handsome looks. A pretty boy with a very pretty smile that showed off very pretty and healthy teeth. A pretty boy that thought I was beautiful. A pretty boy that…was he flirting? Did people with a Medieval mindset flirt? I mean, damsels in distress and knights in shining armor…I was so out of my element.

"Uh," I replied back very smoothly…god, why am I such a spaz? "Um, y-you don't, uh, have to call me 'my lady'…um, my lord. I'm just a girl. My name is Dawn, Dawn Summers."

"Dawn Summers," Jarnel repeated slowly as if testing it for something. I knew my name was kinda weird to him. Okay, so if you think about it, it's a little weird back home. I mean, Dawn is a pretty neutral name, one that is common nowadays, or then days. But using Dawn when the last name is Summers? Can anyone say Hippie-much?

I could feel my cheeks heating slightly as he thought for several seconds about my name. He frowned. "Never before have I heard quite so strange a name."

Oh, god, I suddenly wanted to know what my parents had been thinking. Or was it the monks? A smiled awkwardly and looked down at the ground in front of me. "Yeah, I guess it is a little weird."

"It is perfect," his silky voice said softly in my ear.

I blinked and looked up, slightly confused, mostly pleased. "And why is that?"

His smile was no longer cheery but instead small and knowing. And his eyes, Valar help me…his eyes seemed to take me in somehow. "The only fitting name for a maid that is so radiant could come from the first light of the morn."

Oh, he was flirting. Flirting a lot. Flirting so much that I could tell, which is saying something. My already heated cheeks began to burn as I blushed even more. "You are very flattering."

"No," he replied seriously before putting a hand on his chest, looking very important. "I am Jarnel."

I couldn't help it. I laughed. He laughed, too, falling back into his relaxed posture from the mocking one he had so easily slipped into. For a moment there, I had been able to see Haldir in him. The Elf in question was still leading onward, not even looking back although I knew he could hear every word. But in that case, Rúmil was also looking very straightforward. And so were the others.

I decided to ignore they who would have their bows stuck up their asses before allowing me to do anything that could be construed as fun and turned my full attention back to the young Man at my side. "Jarnel," I repeated, mimicking the way he had said my name just a few moments before. "I like it. So, Jarnel, what brings you to the Golden Wood?"

His smile faltered slightly and his posture stiffened just a bit. "The times we live in."

I cursed myself and my stupidity. Not many people were stupid enough to believe things weren't getting worse day by day. Apparently, Jarnel wasn't stupid. "A vague answer."

He sighed and the smile completely dropped off his face. "Another reminder of these times, when such vagueness is oft times essential to one's survival."

God, I had to change the subject and prove I could be witty while doing it. So, naturally, I ditched that plan and said the first thing that came to mind. "You find something to be wary of in a young girl you were quick to compliment?"

But apparently it was a good thing to say. Though his expression was still guarded, his eyes were back on me again…and there was something akin to longing in them. Something that made me shiver. "No," he replied in a low voice. "I find much to be mindful of in a young lady with a very quick mind."

"Lady," I repeated more than a little bitter. The Elves at east were more understanding about mine and the other Scooby's world view. Even though they seemed to be complete masochists, they seemed pretty advanced in the female rights depart when compared with the Men. So generally, I wasn't much of a lady in anyone's sight. Especially not in my training tunic and leggings. "I am no lady. Take a look, see for yourself."

But this Man…he looked at me with such…I've never seen such a look. It confused me and…I didn't know what it meant. "All I see is a magnificent lady."

"I'm barely one and twenty," I argued, the stubborn Summers in me refusing to be contradicted.

The Man dismissed that with a wave of his hand. "And I'm not even a score and three."

I blinked. He was twenty-three? "You're kidding."

He raised his eyebrows in amusement. "Do I look so worn?"

I blanched. First normal guy that I see, first normal guy that shows some kind of interest in me, and I insult him. "No, it's nothing like that. You do look young. Not that you look like a kid. You're just so hairy…I mean in a rugged way! It's really hot…oh, god. I'm just gonna be quiet before I make things worse."

"Hot?" he repeated, confused.

"I meant…" Damn the language barrier! "It's, uh…it's very nice. Fetching."

The Man looked stricken. "And I thought I was forward."

Why won't Haldir just turn around and shoot me? "You have to forgive my mouth. It's not really connected to my mind. Just goes off, likes to get me in trouble. It thinks it's funny."

"You are the oddest woman I have ever met."

"Yeah. Sorry."

"If I might be so bold as you have been…it's quite fetching."

Oh. My. God. And. Goddess.

My mind raced. What to say? It had to be smooth. Something witty. And a very safe topic.

So I decided to insult him again. It had worked well in the past.

"Oh, I know you're type. I've been warned about them."

He looked at me with eyes sparkling. "Oh?"

"You're a charmer," I said, smiling warmly at him.

He chuckled. "I would hope so. My livelihood depends upon it."

"Oh, no," I mock-moaned. "Lord save me from salesman."

"Sails?" He said, amusement melting into confusion. I seemed to have that affect on him. "I am no man of the sea."

I grinned. "Not sails. Market. You sell things at market."

He thought about this for a moment, then nodded. "Yes, I suppose you are right. Not only a quick mind, but an observant eye as well?"

"More like an observant ear," I corrected before muttering darkly, "Stupid telemarketers."

He was confused again. "What?"

"What do you sale?" I quickly changed the subject. I didn't think I could adequately explain telemarketers.

"My own wares," he replied, a certain note of pride in his voice. "I am a craftsman, a potter."

My turn to be confused. "You make pots?"

"I work clay," he explained gently, not bothering to ask why I didn't know something as common as that.

I smiled brightly, finally getting it. "You're an artist!"

"Among other things," he said lowly with a slight laugh. "But yes, I have been known to 'make pots'."

"Wow, I never really thought about it. I thought most people outside the wood were farmers."

"Well, my father is a farmer and I do help him work the land alongside my brothers. But I am youngest of seven. So during the winter months and sometimes the summer months as well I go East to aid my uncle, who is also a potter. He is childless, you see."

Childless. The worst thing a Mortal in this world could be. Children weren't only a joy in this world, they were a necessity. Instant helpers, instant workers. Well, once they got to a certain age. It was sad. "I get it."

"I do so like working in the towns with him. I have done well for myself there, so well that my thoughts have turned many a time recently to the future. It is my hope to maybe be wed one day soon. Raise a family in the peace the towns offer."

I smiled. I knew I would never know anything like that. I would never be a mother. Something I had always wanted to be. "That sounds really nice."

"It will be," he said confidently. "Yet there are so few women who will forgive my forward ways."

I giggled. "I wonder why."

"What brings you to the wood, Lady Dawn?" he asked, swinging the topic of conversation off of him. "Is your husband perhaps friendly with one of the Elves that live here?"

"Husband?" I repeated, somewhere between horrified and longingly. "Oh, uh, no. Not married. Way not married."

"How is it a beautiful woman such as yourself has gone so long without being claimed?"

"Oh, that part was pretty easy. Just duck and cover."

"Your speech is strange, trivial and full of meaning all at the same time."

I laughed. Oh, the irony. "_My_ speech?"

"I have not heard true laughter in so very long. I must say, you are intriguing."

"Oh, well, then you should meet my sister. All she ever does is make jokes."

"A sister? Well, I cannot imagine your sister to be as fair as you."

"Uh, well, uh…thank you."

"If you are not yet claimed, what might have brought one such as yourself to these strange woods?"

"I live here."

"You live here? In the wood?"

"Yup. For a few years now."

"Why would you do that to yourself?"

I blinked. His tone was shocked. Grave. Serious. And the way he was looking at me. As if I were some poor tortured soul. "Do what?"

"Live with beings so different. Deprive yourself of a future. Of any hope. Any chance of happiness."

His words hit me like a slap in the face. Suddenly, I felt very cold. I drew my arms around myself. "It's not like that."

"Isn't it? We weren't meant for this. To live in trees with magics and sorceries all around. We were meant for the home. For families and friendships that we will carry with us forever into our long last sleep. Not for things that will simply fade away."

I listened to his words and I knew they were true. If I didn't do something, soon…I would be like this for the rest of my life. Decades upon decades of living here…never making more of myself…never changing except for in body…no future. No life. And neither would my friends.

He must have seen the affect his words were having on me on my face. "Forgive me. I speak out of turn."

"No, it's okay," I reassured him in a strained tone. "You have the right to express your opinion."

"I know nothing about you, lady. I had not the right."

"I promise, it's not a problem."

"I rarely can hold my tongue. My father says it is my worst quality. One I inherited my mother, or so he tells the neighbors at the pub. Along with a great many other things."

I smiled despite myself. "I've been known to have a mouth on me, too."

"You can't have been born here. Where do you hail from, Lady Dawn, what land?"

"Uh, a far off land. To the North."

The lie slipped from my tongue so easily and I hated it in that moment. I hated this place. I wanted to go anywhere, be anywhere, but here.

"The North? I myself live mainly in the North. Dale. Was your home near there?"

But I didn't hate it here. I loved it. I couldn't blame this place for where fate had led me. "Oh, uh, no. Northwest. Different North. Near Forodwaith."

"I thought that to be a deserted land with no peoples daring to settle it save the Lossoth."

"There are a few small villages. I'm from one of those. It was destroyed, though."

"Harsh lands for one so fair to spring out of. I can almost see why you would choose this lonely place."

"I live here with my family and friends. I am far from lonely."

"Aren't you?"

I closed my eyes. I didn't want to go down this road.

He saw it. "Forgive me, I speak out of turn once again."

"My father, sister, and brothers live here with me. And I have many friends among the Eldar. I am happy."

"You are a Woman. You cannot be happy forever with only family and Immortals for companionship. Do you not crave the touch of another?"

We were entering the city now but I felt very alone. Well, except for him. His eyes were no longer playful. His tone was no longer light. His gaze on me was not just interested or teasing or that thing I couldn't quite place my finger on. I knew what he was looking at me as. A single woman. A single woman that he wanted.

"I am content."

"Yes, miss. I can see that you are. Content."

We reached the stairs that led up the mallorn I ha called home for the past several years. But it didn't seem like home.

"Might I call on you again before I depart?" He took my right hand in both of his, eyes shining with his want of me. "I would much enjoy your company in these dark times."

If I said yes, it could lead somewhere. Somewhere this shouldn't go. "If you want. Of course. I would like that."

He raised my hand to his lips. They were so warm. So full of life. "If it isn't too bold to say, my lady, perhaps I might convince you that this wood does not have to be your world."

Then he turned and followed Haldir up. None of the Elven guards looked at me. They all knew the road I might have chosen with my consent.

"Who's the cutie?"

I turned to find Willow on my right. She was watching him with interested eyes. Spike was behind her, expression one of concern. "A Man?"

"Yeah, he was caught crossing the borders," I said, tone wavering slightly. "Wants to talk to Nana and Ada."

Spike nodded, then turned his gaze to me. Ice blue eyes that were so knowing it was almost frightening. "Why was he looking at you like that?"

I looked away, shrugging my shoulders in a nonchalant way as I started up the stairs. "Like what?"

Spike was pretty quick, though. He grabbed my arm before I had made it to the twelfth stair. "Pigeon, you have to be careful."

I rolled my eyes as I continued upwards, Spike and a confused Willow hot on my trail. And Spike was unhappy. "Men here are different than the ones back home."

I ignored him.

"Faster. They want breeding women, not romance."

I really tried.

"As it is, you're already old enough to be considered a spinster by some."

But I couldn't help the anger inside of me.

I stopped right there on the stairs and whirled around to glare at Spike. "Don't you think I know that?" I hissed at him, shoving him against the mallorn. Willow yelped and quickly moved to keep Spike from falling all the way back down to the ground.

I just continued, balling my fists up and driving them against Spike. "Don't you think I know that I'll always be alone! Don't you think I know that I'm going to die here, exactly as I am now, useless and a waste! Don't you think I know that my life means nothing!"

He stared at me, speechless.

"Don't you think I know that I am all that I will ever be!"

Spike came to his senses and grabbed my wrists, pulling me to him in an effort to call me. His warmth, his incredible warmth, his heartbeat, the things I never thought I'd know in Spike…they somehow brought reality into focus. Spike had been given his life back…to die in such a strange world.

"Don't you think I know we are alone?"

He held me close, and waited for a moment. I knew what he expected. The waterworks. I didn't have any to give.

I pulled back, my anger mostly spent. Spike smiled at me. "You're not alone, Nibblet."

I grimaced at the smile, because it didn't quite reach his eyes. "We are in all the ways that count."

Willow stepped up to us, looking a little out of her element. "Dawn, Spike doesn't mean you to be alone. I mean, sure, you find a guy that you like and that has the capacity to understand…go for it. Just be careful."

"Yeah," I muttered as I started up the stairs again at a much calmer pace. They followed behind me. "We're not like these people. Got it."

Spike ran a hand through his wavy locks. I liked his hair longer. He seemed more innocent. In a weird way. But his eyes could still command me. "No. We are more like that Man than we are these Elves. But with your circumstances, with Elrohir…you shouldn't jump after the first Man you see, the first Man who looks your way."

I shot Spike a look. He usually was the best one to talk to about Elrohir. He knew about immortality and gut-wrenching love and drama. But sometimes… "My circumstances with Elrohir are just that. _Mine_."

He smirked, completely unapologetic. Arrogant vampire. Former.

"So, he wants to speak with Nana and Ada?" Willow asked in a very unsubtle attempt to change the topic of conversation. "What's that all about?"

I shivered. I knew why he was here. It was the thing. The bad thing. The feeling. The it.

"I'm not sure," I said, both honest and lying at the same time. "Something bad."

Spike gave me a concerned look. Willow's eyes followed. I couldn't lie to ice blue and hazel green. "Really bad," I whispered.

"Worse than Xander?" Willow attempted an ill-ventured joke. Not even she could smile.

I shivered again. I felt that dark pull. I grabbed Spike's hand as we climbed. "Willow, I have a really bad feeling about this."

"A feeling?" Spike placed my hand in his other, wrapping the free arm around me as he guided me upwards. "Does this have anything to do with that other feeling you've been having, pet? The scream?"

"It's all the same," I said in a hushed voice, feeling the dread rise up inside. "All tying together in one giant knot. It's like…"

We had stopped. "Like what, Dawn?" Willow urged quietly.

I opened my eyes to see them both hovering in front of me, anxious to know. I could only shake my head. "Like this is the end."

"The end?" Spike repeated, a little edgier than he normally was. Could have been because of my earlier pummeling. "The end of what?"

We were there, at the end of the winding stairs and the entrance to "home". But we stood there on the edge, both of them waiting for an answer I did not want give.

I shook my head and they accepted that. But I knew.

The end of us.

We reached the entrance to the "house" and saw that, as per usual, Galadriel and Celeborn were doing their slow ethereal gliding thing down the stairs to the platform. They loved to be intimidating. Stupid Elves.

Haldir, Rúmil, and the other guards that had been with us were standing off to the side. Haldir was doing a very good job at _not_-looking at me. Elladan and Elrohir were behind their grandparents, looking very scowly. Arwen was doing her deep pensive gaze behind them. Gandalf was beside her, looking very thoughtful.

Spike moved to the side of the talan opposite Haldir and his guards. That was when I noticed Xander, in all his broody glory. Reminded me a little of Angel. He at least acknowledged us with a slight nod. "Hey."

"What are you doing here?" Willow asked, voice a little too high to be calm.

"I saw them coming from my room," Xander said as Jarnel glanced around at the assembled party. Xander watched him for a moment, then glanced at me. "Why's he looking at you funny?"

I couldn't help but roll my eyes. The world could be ending, Xander could be turning into a bigger brooder than Angel, but…damn overprotective brothers to hell!

"Stranger, this wood is perilous for those unknown to us," Celeborn began in a low tone. "Why brave the danger?"

Jarnel bowed lowly, but kept his cool. I was impressed. I had seen foreign Elves do a lot worse. "If you would, my lord and lady. I am the son of a farmer who owns land just West of Southern Mirkwood. I myself am a craftsman of Dale. These few months many Men have traveled South to aid the farmers and small settlements there. A great evil has come down upon them."

Galadriel's eyes searched the young Man. "What evil plagues you that is so dire?"

"Dol Guldor stirs."

I felt every muscle in my body knot. My shoulders, my thighs, my abs, my back, my jaw, the little ones behind my ears…almost painful.

All the Elves's expressions had darkened. Arwen actually looked stricken. Haldir was growly.

Beside me, Willow was very close to hyperventilating. Her eyes were darting everywhere, just like they would years ago when we had been hunted by Glory, Angelus, The First…

Spike was pretty tense. Stiff as a board, actually. Eyes staring straight ahead at Jarnel, almost in disbelief.

Surprisingly, it was Xander that did not react at all. He just stood there, a little slouched just as he had been. Almost resigned.

"It is starting," Willow whispered haggardly.

"Dol Guldor has long since stirred before," Celeborn said, voice still calm, yet a slight pitch lower to the trained ear. The only sign that Jarnel's words had affected him at all.

"Rumblings come from it almost constantly," Galadriel continued in her somber voice, "and the evil the Necromancer left behind is a malignant force to us all."

Jarnel bowed slightly again. His entire manner was serious. "Yes, my lady, true. But we hear whispers. The Necromancer has been searching these last few years for something, something he much desires to find. And now…we fear he has gathered what he sought."

My heart nearly failed. Us being here…had it led to Sauron finding the Ring now? So soon? So early? Had we destroyed our chance before we could ever grasp it?

Galadriel's eyes widened slightly as well. "What is it that he sought?"

"We do not know." I could even sense the fear pouring from Jarnel. It was so strong, so overwhelming. "So many have disappeared. And the Dwarves of the Mountain are panicked. Many of their kind have disappeared, as have many of the Men of our people. We fear for all. I have been sent here to beseech you, please…lend us your aid."

All was silence.

Like all those gathered, I watched the Lord and Lady of Lórien, waiting silently for their answer. But I already knew what it would be. My Elven friends would go to that place, that place in Mirkwood…

I closed my eyes and I could suddenly see it there against my lids. All darkness and misery with evil choking everything around it/ The hill. The tower. A man. He knew my name…

"I would know the full extent of this before I commit my people to your plight," Celeborn replied slowly. I opened my eyes, the dread knotting in my stomach. "Would you be willing to lead my warriors to the evil hill and show them what you have told me?"

This wasn't good.

Jarnel hesitated, then nodded firmly. "If…if that is what you would require, my lord, then…yes. I would be willing."

No. No, something was wrong here.

"You are a courageous Man, Master Jarnel," Galadriel told him warmly. "Do not ever doubt your bravery."

I couldn't put my finger on it.

Jarnel seemed to glow at her warmth. "Thank you, my lady."

But it was wrong.

"You will be well protected," Celeborn assured him. "I will send only our finest with you."

This wasn't supposed to be happening.

"For now, go and sleep in peace," Galadriel said, motioning to the guard. Dimkris stepped forward. "You are safe within our lands."

This wasn't how things were supposed to go.

"Thank you," Jarnel said in awe, tears in his eyes. "Thank you so much."

My path wasn't supposed to be going down this road.

Jarnel allowed himself to be led away. His relief hung all around him, his step lighter, his smile more genuine. The word of the Elves was as good as gold.

My path led somewhere else.

Haldir stepped forward, puffy and proud. "My lord, I ask your leave to accompany those to Dol Guldor."

My path led somewhere deeper.

Celeborn nodded. "Of course, Haldir, I only want you to take with you four others. It would be best if at least one other could speak the Common Tongue. Choose wisely and choose those who are strong, those you trust."

My path led somewhere darker.

"Rúmil will stay and guard the borders," Haldir said, clasping his brother on the shoulder, his brother who had no way of knowing what was going on. "Orophin will come with us."

Someone was meddling.

"We will go as well, Haldir," Elladan said as he stepped forward. "Do not deplete your guard any more than necessary."

Someone was changing things.

"I will go as well."

And there it was.

All eyes turned toward us, but it was Spike that voiced what we were all thinking. "Xander?"

Celeborn's gaze was heavy. "Alexander, while I commend your bravery, I believe--"

"Please," Xander said, stepping forward. He was firm in his decision. Any and all could see it. "I feel that I must go."

Celeborn hesitated and looked to his trusted Captain. "Haldir?"

"Aye," Haldir replied, giving Xander a knowing look. "Bed iest'lin."

(Yes. As you wish.)

"No!"

I couldn't help myself. It was wrong. It wasn't his time. And because it wasn't, it would swallow him whole.

I stepped out towards Xander, and I could feel my panic. The heat in my cheeks, the thunderous pounding of my heart, my haggard breath, the lightening all throughout my limbs.

I couldn't lose him.

Willow was beside me, trying to offer some sort of comfort. "Dawn, we'll--"

"No!" I shouted again, looking somewhere for support.

Galadriel looked at me, then at Haldir, Xander, Elladan, and Elrohir. "You will leave at sunrise."

My world was falling apart. I had felt it coming. Knew it would happen.

Someone was dragging me somewhere. Someone strong. Spike. He was angry. We were in his and Xander's room. Xander was gathering his things, making ready for the journey.

"Xander, what the hell do you think you're doing!"

I stood behind Spike and watched the confrontation. Willow was behind me. Giles a few feet to my left.

"I am a Marchwarden," Xander explained simply. "This is a simple but daunting task that I will not let my friends face alone."

Giles was almost as angry as Spike. "Haldir, Elladan, Elrohir, and Orophin are thousands of years old, more than capable of--"

"I am more than capable as well," Xander cut him off. His tone left no room for argument. I knew Spike and Giles would give in. "I am going to do this."

No. No, no, no, no, no. Please, not Xander.

"Spike?" Spike turned to Xander. Xander's eye was very grave. "You'll take care of them, right?"

Spike sighed, resigned to defeat. "I'll stay until you get back, but…Harris, this isn't anything you have to do."

I couldn't remain silent. "Xander, I beg of you…please. Please, don't do this."

He looked up at me. He seemed tired. "Dawn--"

"I have a really horrible feeling about this, Xander." I reached out and grabbed his hands, holding them so tightly, not wanting him to slip away. "You've trusted my instincts before, please trust them now. Don't do this."

He gently pulled out of my grasp. "I must."

Willow was frantic behind me. "Xander, if Dawn is right…I don't think you should go either. Something isn't right."

Xander smiled softly as his gaze ticked to his oldest friend. "I'm sorry, Wills. This isn't something you can talk me out of. Not this time."

"Xander, you will die," I hissed. Xander looked up at me as everyone else froze. There. It was out. They all knew what I knew. Sort of, I could feel in my heart, though, that death was a best case scenario. Still, fear of death was a pretty good place to start. "Not the maybe death that we had over us all our lives, the most certainly will death that I know in my heart you won't be able to escape this time. If you go to Mirkwood, you are going to your _death_."

Xander held my gaze for so long as a slowly straightened. But my words did not seem to deter him. No, they were encouraging him. "If my death is set before me, I will meet it without fear in my heart. I am happy to die if it will save you from falling."

Willow gave an exasperated shout behind me, then I could feel her leave. Giles and Spike gave pursuit, calling after her. Then it was just me and Xand.

"You know, don't you." It wasn't a question. Because his eye already had all my answers. "It's not just death I fear. Something wants us, Xander. Something is coming for us."

He put his right hand on my shoulder and pulled me close. "I know."

"I'm begging you," I choked out, a dry sob threatening from inside. "Stay here. Where it's safe. Please. Don't do this."

He hugged me tight. I could almost feel his pain. "We can't hide forever."

I let his warmth envelop me. It was like Spike's in a way. So comforting. I loved him so much. All our history was there, in that embrace, all that we felt for each other. He really was my brother, I could feel it in him. And I hurt so bad inside, knowing he would soon be gone.

I let the tears come. It was dirty, that I knew. But if anything would bend Xander…and for that matter, Spike and Giles, to my will, it was tears. I learned that long ago from Anya. Anya. Another piece of my history with Xander. It was physical, the bond. It was so much more than blood. It had to remain, I couldn't live without any of them, I couldn't live without him.

"Xander, something really bad is going to happen to you," I sobbed, looking up at him as the cool wet tears streaked down my cheeks. "I don't just feel it, I _know_ it. Please, trust me."

"Is the Mirror always right?" he asked softly as he held me. "About the future?"

"Sort of," I replied as the tears continued to come. "The Mirror shows a lot of different things, past, present, and future. Usually, the consequences of a path. When it shows the future, it shows what can be. What will happen if things play out the way they are supposed to."

His hold on me tightened. I was going to lose him, I knew it. Oh, god, why? Please, no, please. Take me. Please don't take any of them. Iluvatar, please, I beg you, don't let this happen.

"It's not an irreversible destiny?" he asked hopefully.

"Well, it can be," I said between sobs. "The choice is up to the one who is looking."

It was almost worse than losing Mom. I had loved her so much. But there was so much between the seven of us now, so much that tied us together. And I could feel the ties that bound Xander to us slipping.

Xander nodded as he pulled away slightly. He looked down at me with that single chocolate colored eye. All I saw was love. "But you and Willow and Galadriel…you couldn't see what it showed me?"

"It was something only meant for your eyes…your eye," I said as I clasped at his shoulders. I refused to let him go. If I held on hard enough, maybe he wouldn't go. Maybe they couldn't take him from me like they had taken Anya, Tara, Mom. "Xander…we can help you still. But you have to trust us. You have to tell us what you saw."

If I held on long enough, maybe things would be all right. Maybe I wouldn't lose him like I had lost the world. I'll give anything, just let me hold on. "Please, Xander. Tell me."

His hands came up to mine. They pulled so gently. It was firm, but soft, like I would break if he pulled too hard. And my hold gave.

He stepped back several paces, resolved. "I can't, Dawn. Understand. I can never tell you. You don't want to know."

He grabbed his bag and turned to the door. I stared at his back, unable to believe it.

"How bad was it?" I asked.

He said one last word. "Bad."

He didn't come back to his room for the rest of the night.

They left with the dawn of the next morning. I watched as he rode out the gates of the city. And unlike all the other times I had seen my family ride out those gates, I shed no tears.

I prayed to whatever power was listening. Just to bring him back. I should have been a bit more specific at the condition he was to come back in.


	28. The Heart of the Lion

Xander Harris was almost completely silent the entire journey from Caras Galadhon to Dol Guldur. He didn't even think much. He just walked.

The Elves in their party were starting to get worried. He knew that much from the whispered Sindarin phrases and lingering glances. The Man, well, he seemed to be well preoccupied with his ever growing terror for his own life to even learn the names of the party.

It took them the better part of a day to walk to the Anduin and then the rest of that same day to make the crossing across the mighty river. Once they reached the eastern shore, they rested.

The second day was much more productive. Still keeping to foot, they were able to cover over half of the valley between the Anduin and the forest's edge, slightly slowed by the Man in their company.

The third day, they made it into the forest. Xander saw more Orcs and other less the savory creatures in that forest than he had seen since he had fallen into Middle-Earth. He almost felt at home. But they did not move to attack any of the creatures they came upon. Their mission was dependant upon stealth and secrecy. For that reason it took them another two full days to travel a winding path to the Black Hill.

Xander crouched in his cover among the roughage of the heavy forest, staring at the monstrosity of a fortress before him. It stood upon a tall hill, one that was barren and lifeless, darkness killing the nature around. As expected, it was black. And the tower twisted its way upwards. It radiated darkness, almost as much as the Hellmouth had, so thick even Xander could feel it. It made him more than uncomfortable.

He glanced at Haldir, who, along with the other Elves of their party, was using his sharp Elven sight to analyze the fortress from a reasonably acceptable distance. But they were taking far too much time in their analysis for Xander's comfort. "Well?

"There is definitely activity," the Marchwarden answered softly, voice edged with concern. "But none so more than I usually see."

Jarnel, who was shifting nervously on Xander's other side, snapped his gaze over to Haldir, eyes darting around frantically. "Oh, but there is. Do you not see all the Orcs?"

Elladan put a comforting hand on the young Man's shoulder, eyes deep with the knowledge of years long gone. "The Orcs have been here for many years, Jarnel. It actually looks to me as if they are far less in number than they typically are."

Jarnel appeared to be slightly comforted for a moment, then shook his head vehemently. "They are here."

Xander rolled his eye, beginning to be a little irritated by the terrified Man. "Jarnel, I don't think--"

Before Xander could even complete the thought, let alone the sentence, everything changed. His Elven companions were all in a circle around him, weapons drawn and trained on the countless number of Orcs that had appeared out of nowhere. But they were impossibly outnumbered. Xander knew it would be absolute folly to even try and draw one of his own weapons.

They were caught.

"Fuck."

Haldir, expression one of stone, eyed their situation, then gave the group a slight nod. Then he lowered his bow and, after a moment's contemplation, slid both the bow and arrow back into their carriers on his back.

"Avo gusto, mellyn'ní n."

(Do not panic, my friends.)

Xander hesitated, not being able to help but wonder if the Elf Captain had lost his mind. It was against Haldir's very nature to give in without a fight. Then Xander noticed what Haldir had already. The Orcs surrounding them did not have their weapons drawn. They weren't even making any aggressive action, not in face or deed. Reluctantly, he moved forward and held his hands out and away from his own weapons even as the twins, Orophin, and Jarnel did the same.

"Man garo cerim?"

(What should we do?)

They weren't left to wonder long, for one particularly nasty looking hump-backed Orc came forward near Xander and bowed humbly. "If you wish to speak with the master, please, noble sir, this way."

Xander looked from the Orc to Haldir, unsure of what to do. Haldir stepped forward and nodded once. "We accept your offer."

The Orc bowed again and then made a sharp motion to the others around it. A few of the Orcs stepped back, providing a passageway deeper into the thick of them. On up the hill they parted, and Xander could see less than a dozen yards ahead who was waiting for them.

"Oh, we need Buffy."

And they probably did. For Xander knew a Big Bad when he saw it. And the creature in front of him was definitely a Big Bad. It looked like a man. Truly it did. Two legs, two arms, one head. It stood like a man. But it was far from human.

It stood, fully armored to the point that no part of it was visible. It resembled the drawings Xander had seen of the Nazgûl, though he knew this wasn't one of them. More likely it was a Man at some point, but had been taken under Sauron's wing and mutated until not even its form was recognizable.

They faced the creature squarely, surrounded by about two dozen Orcs, all watching carefully. The other Orcs continued on up the hill to the fortress, leaving the creature to his prey. It looked them over a moment, then turned to the Man that had lead them here. "You did well, Jarnel."

As the others stared, Jarnel stepped forward to the creature's right and gave a deep and humble bow, the fear in his demeanor now replaced with confidence. "Thank you, my lord."

Xander sighed and rolled his eye, blood beginning to heat in his anger. "You've gotta be kidding."

The creature turned his attention completely to Xander. Xander almost shivered as it examined him closely. Then the creature stepped back and bowed even more reverently than Jarnel had just done. "Alexander Lavelle Harris.," the creature said in a low, humble tone. "It is my greatest honor to meet a Lord of Sunnydale."

Xander could only stare at the creature in shock. He turned to Haldir, hoping beyond hope for some kind of explanation. The Marchwarden looked even more confused than Xander felt. Since Orophin did not speak Common Tongue, his face was blank as he took in everyone's reactions and waited for some sort of word that would explain. Elrohir and Elladan, though, they just appeared shocked and suspicious.

When the creature straightened and looked at him expectantly, Xander's articulate reply was, "Hum na?"

The creature then continued, unaffected by Xander's reaction. He motioned to the very smug looking Jarnel, who bowed deeply to Xander as his master had. "Please, forgive these crude methods, but we knew no other way to reach thee. The she-Elf and her mate have taken great strides to keep thy family under their thumb."

Xander felt his blood heat. He had long been a fighter, a Marchwarden in Lórien, but this creature wasn't some overhanging general threat as all of the threats in this world had so previously been. This thing was singling him out. And singling out his family. "What the hell is this?"

"My Lord has heard of thy greatness and the greatness of thy family and has long desired to meet with thee and pay thee honor," the thing said in a rasping slimy tone. "Thy legend is renowned even among the highest circles, noble sir. When my lord learned of thy arrival here in our lands, he immediately sent tribute to the borders of Lothlórien, only to have it rejected."

Xander fought the urge to roll his eye. Instead he glared evenly at the creature as it continued its obviously long-prepared speech. "The Elves are cunning and greedy. Immortal creatures imprisoning the mortal stranger only to keep thee from claiming your rightful places among the rulers of this earth. They wish not to have their authority undermined. Power hungry creatures, the worst of all the Witch of Lórien herself."

Xander could almost feel Haldir, Elrohir, and Elladan's anger. Orophin, or course, was still in the dark, but could see well enough to know that the thing before them was not the kindest of hosts. Xander himself narrowed his eye, anger and hatred filling him at the creature's words. "The Elves of Lórien are my _friends_."

"I am sure thou art a friend to them, of course," the creature said quickly, giving a small nod. "The honor of Lord Alexander Harris has never been questioned. But it is the Elves that are not friends to thee. They have connived to keep thee trapped within their borders, even when they knew that the portal Lady Dawn Summers opened brought forth another of thy family to this land. They knew another came forth to Arda, another that all of thee know and love."

"Right," Xander snapped back, not really noticing the suddenly uncertain expressions on his companions faces. All he knew was his hatred of the thing before him. All he knew was that if he had to die, he would die protecting his family. "We all know Dawn can get a little green around the edges at times, but she has never brought through anyone but us."

"This was found on the borders of this wood not long ago," the creature said, raising a hand to hold something out to Xander. "There appeared to have been an ambush there, led by the Elves themselves. We were unfortunately unable to find a body to return to thee."

Xander opened his mouth to spit back some scathing remark and glanced down. The words died on his lips. The creature held out before him a dirty, torn, bloody piece of clothing. One made from a material he had never seen in his time in Middle-Earth. But he had seen it long before. Polyester. To be specific, part of a polo shirt. With the words "New Watcher's Council" perfectly embroidered in red.

Everything Xander knew about the world was destroyed in that moment.

It could have been anyone, anyone involved with the New Watcher's Council. Robin, Rona, Kennedy, Andrew, Vi, Caridad. It could have been anyone from Angel's group in LA, for they all had the shirts as well, Wolfram and Hart footing most of the bill of their startup costs. Wesley, Fred, Gunn, or even Angel himself. It could have been one of a thousand people, for the Council had been growing everyday. Someone from his home, someone he cared for, someone that belonged to another world.

Someone that belonged to the Scoobies.

He reached out and took the shirt from the creature, staring at it as his body went numb. Beside him, Haldir stepped closer, trying to get Xander to look up at him. "Xander--"

"This can't be," Xander heard himself whisper though he had no conscious awareness of having spoke. But with the cloth in his hands, he could feel that it was real. It was really there. He could see and feel the familiar fabric, the perfect lettering, his everything screamed to him that this dark evil _thing_ was telling him the truth.

"We would never hunt down any innocent being," Elladan said firmly from behind him.

And with a jolt, Xander realized that everything was also screaming that the Elves he had so long trusted and cared for had done nothing but lie. He turned to face his _friends_ and saw there not shock, but great concern. For themselves. The numbness vanished and in its place came a burning in his veins the like of which he had never felt before. "But you knew someone was here!"

Haldir actually flinched, his perfect mask not being able to hide all the traces of guilt. "Lady Galadriel did feel someone come through, but--"

"You knew!" Xander raged, fingers digging into the cloth in his hands. "You knew and you didn't tell us. We can't survive here on our own, not at first. The fall almost killed all seven of us and you didn't even tell us so we could search this person out?"

Xander felt himself shaking. It was too much. Only Iluvatar knew who it had been, maybe someone he had not even been close to, maybe even someone he hated like Angel, but the betrayal burned hot nonetheless. He stepped close to Haldir, pushing the piece of cloth into the Elf's chest hard. "No one but our closest friends have these. Our families have these. Friends and lovers, brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers, only them! I can't even know exactly who it was!"

Orophin had given up confusion and instead was stoically calm as he shook his head and stepped between Xander and the others. "Xander, sî dh!"

(Peace!)

Xander just shoved the Elf to the ground. Elrohir grabbed Xander by the arm, shaking him in frustration. "Xander, do not let yourself be fooled. He is playing on your anger--"

"And it's working!" Xander hissed as he wrenched out of the Elf's grasp.

"You are playing right into the Dark Lord's hands!" Haldir shouted, grabbing Xander himself, much more forcefully than Elrohir had. "Keep your good sense!"

"Sense!" Xander repeated hotly as he tried unsuccessfully to shake Haldir off. "Get off of me!"

And then the Orcs were on the Elves, pulling them back away from Xander as if he had ordered them to do so. In a blink they were on their knees, all four staring at Xander in shock as he just stood there and watched them be bound. Xander felt a twinge of guilt. He didn't want them to die, though he knew that was the option more and more likely.

Xander turned away, not able to bear the look in their eyes anymore. Instead he faced the creature and suddenly felt very tired. "What do you want from me?"

The creature's stance changed and Jarnel smiled triumphantly. The thing motioned to Jarnel and he turned to and Orc behind him. A moment later he turned back to Xander. He knelt and presented in his hands a wooden box. The creature raised a spindly like hand and motioned Xander forward as it rasped, "My Lord has an offer for thee and thy family."

Xander glanced suspiciously from the creature to the box, for some reason stepping forward against his better judgment. "Which is?"

"He offers thee a place among his legions, a place of respect and power more suitable to thy greatness," the thing said slowly. "Thou would be more powerful than even the Lord of Minas Morgul. Thou would be given lands to govern thyself, peoples to rule over, and be the seconds of the Dark Lord."

The creature motioned and Jarnel opened the box. "The Dark Lord offers thee power."

Xander felt it before he saw it. And knew instantly deep within his very being that he would be a fool to refuse. It coursed through him almost instantly, as if it were the long-lost piece of his soul he never knew was missing. It was bright and shiny and singing and beautiful. The lust and love and absolute power that just coursed through him, into every particle that was him.

He never wanted anything so much in the world as he wanted the ring displayed proudly in that box.

"Alexander…"

It filled his senses, almost to the point that he didn't even hear Orophin's frightened voice. And the little he did, he didn't care. For the answer to all of his problems, everything he had ever dreamed of, all the perfection he had dared imagine was right in front of him. It was his, right there, his for the taking. He just had to reach out his hand and take it.

"Xander…"

Xander felt himself grin as he heard the wonderful piece of himself speak to him. And oh how he wanted to speak back. It radiated power and he knew that his future was no longer uncertain but perfect. He was from this moment forth a god.

"Alexander!"

Haldir could shout all he liked. This was his. Not the tight-ass Elf's but _his_! He would never share it, never give it up. He would take it and show Haldir exactly what he thought of him, exactly what he thought of the Elves and their better-than-thou attitude. He would make them pay for the embarrassment they had caused…for the embarrassment of all those that had come before. He would show them. He would show the world exactly who and what Alexander Harris was. And he would laugh when they admitted their inferiority to him…

"Alexander Harris of Sunnydale, California, turn away from temptation."

Xander laughed shortly at the firm tone Elrohir through his way. He still thought he could order him around like that. He still thought they were equals. Didn't they understand? He was complete now. This was meant to be. It was all of him, all of the strength and will and confidence that must have been stripped from him at birth and put into this tiny ring…it was his. He reached out to take the ring from Jarnel, to accept his place as god…

"Xander!" Elladan shouted desperately. "Xander, look at me!"

Xander knew they feared this. It was why they had imprisoned him in Lórien. He almost felt sad for them. But they would soon learn. He was so close…a few centimeters…

"Yes…" the creature breathed out slowly.

Xander felt a small sting of annoyance. That thing would be the first to go. And the Man that held his ring. They had reunited him with his other part, true, but they would think themselves better. And that Man looked at his Dawnie in such a way…no…Dawnie belonged to the Scoobies…she was a goddess…no Man could touch her…

"Xander, don't let this happen!"

Elrohir's words were familiar. His hand stopped as he tried to place them, floating just a hair's width above the missing piece of himself. He tried to remember, but there were more pressing matters. Like claiming what was his.

"Join…" the creature said.

"Yes, Xander…" the ring sang.

No! something cried.

Anya.

Xander reached.

His sword swept out with an accuracy he had never had. The creature fell. So did Jarnel. The wooden box and its contents fell to the ground. The Orcs holding down the Elves joined the number of the dead.

Xander collapsed after the blow, not even paying attention as his friends made quick work of the other Orcs surrounding them. He just sat there on the blackened ground, hugging his knees to himself as his heart tore at what he had so nearly become. After his vow, after all he had seen, he had almost let it happen. He would have let it happen. If not for her.

There was a wailing cry. The Orcs in the fortress had seen what had happened. Soon they would be overrun and dead.

Hands were on him, pulling him, carrying him. Thorns, branches, and leaves tore at him as they moved quickly through the woods. Shouts and words, questions and concerns, all thrown his way when they spilled out into the fields leading to the river.

It wasn't until the water hit him in the face as Haldir swam across the waters with him on his back that Xander noticed they had survived. And it wasn't until they were under the shadow of Lórien that he responded to them.

When he did, he knew what had to be done.

"Get me to the city. I must speak with Celeborn, Galadriel, and Gandalf."

"You do not know how it knew you?"

Xander slumped into the chair and considered Celeborn's question a moment before sighing. "It was told things," he started slowly looking up to face the people before him. Celeborn stood behind the chair opposite him. Galadriel sat in the chair. Gandalf was leaning against a second chair. All three watched him intently. "Told who I was. Things about my past. And not just me. All of us."

"But who told it?" Galadriel asked. It was the most unnerved Xander had ever seen her, which made him a hundred times more scared. But she had lost a bit of her graceful calm. Instead she looked like a frightened mother. "How did they know?"

Xander sighed again and shook his head. "I don't know. I do know that they are the ones stirring up the rumors and legends. Through wicked Men, mercenaries."

"Why would they?" Gandalf murmured, almost to himself as he puffed on his pipe pensively.

"Maybe to keep better track of us," Xander suggested bitterly. "Maybe to create problems for us living here. I don't know. It didn't know."

Celeborn looked at him hard. "You are certain?"

"That thing," Xander explained with a nod, "I saw its eyes. I saw into it. For just that moment…I saw its mind."

Celeborn shook his head sharply, clearly frustrated. "And yet they are using the names we gave you to stir the legends."

Xander couldn't help but smile. "More acceptable, I'd imagine. No one here would believe a story about a strong female warrior named Buffy. People back on our world had trouble believing it."

"And you're sure that they plan to turn you?" Gandalf asked, expression grave.

The small smile vanished as his thoughts turned to the Mirror. "Without a doubt. In the Mirror…I saw us present the One to Sauron himself."

Galadriel looked up, her damn eyes seeing so much. "Why did you not tell us sooner?"

Xander hesitated several long moments. Then gathering up all his courage he started slowly, "I was scared. I was scared because…a part of me wanted the future to be like that." He hung his head ashamed, but resolved not to lie. There were enough lies. "A part of me was in love with the idea."

There was a beat of silence before Celeborn nodded. "We will call Eirien and Rossell here. If Sauron wants you, he will not stop at one failure."

Xander looked down as he listened to the Lord of Lórien's plans. He almost started when he felt a delicate hand take hold of his own. He looked up into Galadriel's eyes. She was so sad. "I am so sorry that we did not tell you of the portal before."

"I understand," Xander said over the lump in his throat. "I know you tried to find whoever it was."

Gandalf smiled at him warmly and patted him on the shoulder. "We shall continue to try."

Galadriel's grip on his hand tightened and Xander found himself squeezing her hand back as well. She stood, not letting her grip on his hand waver in the slightest, instead cupping his face lovingly with the other. "Rowinn Meldirin, you can trust us," she said as she gazed deeply into his one eye. "As we fully trust in you."

Xander found himself leaning into her touch, craving her warmth so much more than he had ever craved the lukewarm affections of his actual mother. He felt more loved in this family than he ever had in his own. And his heart filled when he heard the name Elladan had given him on the walk to the city. Rowinn Meldirin. Lion heart True friend.

"I know," he whispered as he sat surrounded by family. "I do."

Celeborn patted him on the shoulder as well before nodding to Haldir in the corner. "You can bring in the others now."

"Wait," Xander called to Haldir. The Elf paused and Xander turned to his three mentors. "I don't ever want them to know. The specifics of how it could be. The very thought of the possibility might drive them all over the edge."

Galadriel and Celeborn shared a look then nodded. Celeborn was the one to voice their decision. "As you wish, Rowinn."

A/N: For those who don't get just where this odd ring of Xander's comes from, you will in Chapter 30. For those who might have a sneaking suspicion it will be confirmed there. They will be mentioned again in Chapter 29.

I know Galadriel might be a little out of character in this. Deal with it. She seemed pretty unnerved in The Two Towers movie. This is how I envision her here.

Also, a note on "the creature". I needed a servant of Sauron that wasn't as powerful as a Nazgûl but more eloquent than an Orc. I pictured something more like the Mouth of Sauron. Maybe this thing was the Nose of Sauron or the Ear of Sauron. Something like that.


	29. Trouble is Presto

_**I amar prestannen.**_

I watch them play in the southern glens. Five children so different, yet with bonds as strong as any family I know. Erniethan, Meluiell, Eryniel, and Rowinn are deeply embroiled in a game that is of their homeland. Drúadan watches from a safe distance away, attention torn between the book in his hands and commenting on the game. They run and laugh, tossing the ball, running and grabbing each other in an attempt to let their partner "score" a goal.

They amaze me so. Rowinn's ordeal not even a fortnight past and his smile is pure. They are so young and can be carefree even in the direst of circumstances. Even after all they have seen, they have an air of innocence. It has been too long since I have seen innocence among these trees. The Eldar have long been devoid of such innocence.

It pains me to know these children may soon yet lose theirs.

_**Ha mathon ned nen.**_

The discussion was long. As Rowinn requested, we spoke not of the specifics of his vision. Even though, they all know what is coming, what trials await them.

Wisdom was shared. We can see Sauron's plot even if we do not understand it. Now I see my mistakes, my dear Celeborn's mistakes, Elrond's mistakes, Gandalf's mistakes. We have wronged these children. We were too zealous in our attempts to help them, too loose with their identities and presence. Because of our indiscretion, they are discovered. The Dark Lord knows they are here.

I feared that Sauron would discover these children, my children, ever since we heard of their growing legend.

_**Ha mathon ned cae.**_

Sauron's plan is a mystery. I see advantages, yes, I do. But there is also great weakness within it as well.

This much I do know. After he learnt of the children's presence in Middle-Earth, he endeavored to learn of them as much as was possible. He discovered Meluiell's power and reached forth from Mordor to put it to his uses. Using the power of the Key, he opened gates and pulled forth another being of their realm, one who could answer questions.

And so Sauron's knowledge of the Chosen of Sunnydale grew.

Armed with this new knowledge, the Dark Lord set into motion events that even now play out. Using his network of wicked Men, he spread the tale of the Eldahini. They are legendary now, and I fear the children may not be able to hide long from Sauron because of this. Which may or may not have been the Dark Lord's intent.

The Orcs learned of these legends. The Agents of Mordor as well. They seek the children. And if they succeed in finding them, I fear not all will be as strong as Rowinn.

_**A ha nosto ned wileth.**_

The Seven.

Never have I feared the Dwarven Rings. Always believed to be lost or claimed by the Dark Lord. I never thought them capable of corrupting. Until I saw the look in Rowinn's eye.

It took nothing less than direct intervention of the Valar to give Rowinn the strength to survive the encounter. Sending to him his dead love, it was a blessing I had not thought to look for. I thank them now in every prayer and song that passes my lips, for their wisdom, their mercy, their grace. For returning to me my son.

But all Seven Rings remain out there, lurking in the Shadows beyond Lórien's borders. No doubt reforged through some dark craft of Sauron's, made irresistible to my children.

I fear this will be the end of them.

Eirien and Rossell approach. With them comes Aragorn. Summoning them here took much of my strength, for the two Slayers' minds were hard to connect with over such distance.

As I see them cross the gates, I feel the sting of tears for the first time in over two thousand years.

The death of innocence has begun. Like so many before.

_**Much that once was is lost. For none now live who remember.**_

A/N: I thought I wouldn't let the secret of the Seven out completely until the next chapter. Oh, well. So the rings for our seven favorite Scoobies are indeed the Seven Rings of Power. I'm not completely way beyond canon with this. According to canon, Sauron knew how to craft Rings of Power (anyone heard of the One?). And the Seven were either split into one of two categories. Either Sauron got a hold of them eventually or they were eaten by dragons. I'm just stretching canon to say that the three of four that were eaten by dragons were actually taken by Sauron too.


	30. One Path Splits Into Seven

A/N: Okay, so finally it's here. I know, I know, it took a while, but that's only cause this chapter has about half of the exposition I wanted to get out during the previous twenty-nine chapters. It just didn't work out that way. I guess there's some kind of poetry though in the fact that the thirtieth chapter is over thirty typed single-spaced pages long, that the final chapter is the longest of the story. Just a note or two before we get there.

A note on canon. I have hinted in previous chapters and do so in this chapter the Saruman is already working against the White Council and with Sauron. I want to note that, even though in my story this is true, canonically Saruman doesn't become a traitor until the year three thousand. In this chapter, it is September of 2984.

Oh, and at some point in the next few months, I'm gonna go back and revise some of the chapters. You don't have to go back and read them, it's basically for future readers' benefit. Originally, this story was suppose to take place over a time span of ten years. In the editing process I found that ten years didn't really make sense, so it was whittled down to five. As such, some of the dates in previous chapters don't make sense. Like, I think in one chapter it says the twins had been in Lórien for a year and in the next it says three months. Things like that. The official timeline is at the bottom of the story as a last note.

Enjoy!

---

Buffy couldn't shake the ominous chills. They had followed her ever since she had awoken to hear Galadriel's voice in her head. Then the chills grew deeper, longer, colder throughout the long trek across the mountains to her literal home away from home.

The message that both she and Faith had received had been pretty straightforward. _Come home_. They had done so and without much comment. Aragorn had, of course, followed unquestioningly. It had been hard, but not one of the three of them had spoken a word about what the message could mean. Perhaps because they all knew. If Galadriel was willing to exhaust her power for days to contact someone as they had been contacted, it could only be bad. Very bad.

Now they were close, mere steps from the city hidden within the Golden Wood, and she was nothing short of terrified.

"I don't like this," Faith muttered as she subtly closed the distance between her and Buffy.

Buffy nodded, letting her gaze continue to sweep over the city. To the casual observer, everything would seem completely in order. But a slight mist hung in the air of the city, something Buffy had never seen inside the gates. And she knew her life was about to be consumed in that gloom. "You're telling me."

Buffy crossed through the gates of Lórien, into the city she called home, and for the first time ever within those gates, she felt cold. No one was there to meet them. Some of those passing made polite bows, but continued on. It was the most unsettled she could ever remember feeling.

Beside her, she felt Faith shift even closer. She did not comment or make any effort to move away. The other Slayer's presence was comforting. She felt Aragorn behind her as well. He was radiating tension. Some of her fear was alleviated then, for it felt rather nice to be worried for.

Suddenly, she knew why she felt so cold. Because the all-seeing eyes of the Elven Lady that claimed to be her mother were looking straight at her. The Elven Lady was standing on one of the flets up above, watching the trio push onwards into the city. Buffy met Galadriel's eyes. And she saw fear.

"Buffy!"

With a bit of effort, Buffy tore her eyes away from the Elven Lady and turned just before the large mass of her younger sister barreled into her. For a moment she just stood there, a bit stunned, as her sister attempted to hug her to death. Then she finally regained her senses and wrapped her arms around the girl she had not seen in three years. As she stood there just holding her little sister close, all of her foreboding slipped away as if it had never been.

"Dawn…" she murmured into her sister's shoulder as the relief swept over her. What she had feared most of all in her heart, though she did not allow herself to even think of the possibility, was for her little sister's safety. Yet she was there strong, alive, and, by the looks of it, fine. As were Willow, Xander, Spike, and Giles, for they all followed close behind Dawn. They looked just as well as Dawn, except they seemed to be a little mussed and sweaty. Buffy recognized instantly why as she saw an inflated deer stomach lying on the ground a few feet away, Spike's answer for an improvised soccer ball.

"Goddess, I missed you so much!" Dawn whispered emotionally as she pulled away slightly.

Buffy looked at the familiar face of her little sister, smiling as she saw every detail was just as she remembered. "I missed you, too."

Xander leaned in between the girls to give Buffy a quick peck on the head before turning and enveloping Faith in a quick hug. "Faith, it's good to have you…well, I guess not home, but here, at least."

"Thanks, Xand," Faith said with a smile as she returned the hug. "I missed you guys, too."

"What's wrong?" Buffy asked Dawn as she pulled away further to let the others greet Buffy without letting go of Buffy's arm.

Dawn patted the arm she wrapped around her own. "You should rest before we get into all that."

Buffy scowled as she greeted Giles with a one-armed hug. "Why do I get the feeling that I'm not going to like this?"

The older man simply smiled and shook his head. "Because you won't."

Willow was practically bouncing up and down, giddy with excitement at the return of Buffy and Faith. "So tell us, what's it like beyond the tree line?"

"Weird, Red," Faith replied with a laugh as Spike reached around Willow's shoulders and planted his hands down firmly in an attempt to subdue her slightly. Faith shook her head as she looked them all over. "God, you guys haven't changed a bit."

Xander snorted and pushed his lengthening hair behind his ears. "That's a relief."

Faith's grin began to widen, then suddenly stopped. She gave Willow and Xander both a strange look before turning to Giles. "Wait a sec. You really haven't changed."

"You guys have, sorta," Dawn said as she examined her sister closely. She grinned slyly as she wrapped a finger around a stand of Buffy's hair. "No longer blonde?"

"Funny," Buffy nearly growled as she knocked the lock from Dawn's hand. It was almost heartbreakingly light brown. She preferred to think of it as dirty blonde, so she could still claim blondeness. But no one would let her get away with it. Just like Willow wasn't much of a striking redhead anymore. They had all given way to their natural, dull hair colors. Well, except for Dawn, who had always had a gorgeous shade of shiny brown hair. And Xander and Faith, their dark shades were natural. And spike, damn him, his natural hair color was even better than the peroxide, the shade Buffy would kill for. The only thought that comforted her was that she knew Giles should be going gray any day now, though for some reason the only gray that had come in at all were the patches he'd had before they had fallen to Lórien.

Buffy shook off her line of thought and turned Dawn towards her to get a better look at the now twenty-one-year-old. "God, look at you," she murmured as she seriously went about studying her sister. Dawn rose magnificently to the challenge, standing straight and smiling as her sister looked her over. Dawn was paler that was for certain. Her hair was longer and the highlights had been cut out. Her eyes were a bit different. But there wasn't much else different. Her face hadn't changed as she matured. She was the same height. Her weight was a little better than it had been in Sunnydale, more muscle had been built living in the woods but…but she was exactly the same as she had been when Buffy had left three years ago. No…Dawn was exactly the same as she had been when they had fallen into Lórien…over five years ago. "You've…not grown at all."

Buffy stared at her sister, who was now shooting her a strange look. But she couldn't shake it. She stared at her sister, knowing that the girls had not changed, had not aged. "Why are you still sixteen?"

"What?"

The way Faith was staring at Giles, Willow, and Xander now made sense to Buffy. She saw it too, had seen it first. "It's the truth," the dark-haired Slayer defended Buffy as she motioned to the group. "You guys are exactly the same as you were when we left. You haven't grown, you haven't aged. Well, your hair is longer and your eyes are…deeper and you're all pasty white, but…you're the same."

"Buffy, Faith, that's…it's…" Xander trailed off as he looked closely at Faith, eyes widening as he just stared.

"Impossible," Willow breathed as she gazed around the group.

"You haven't aged either," Giles murmured as he brushed a piece of hair out of Buffy's face. "Underneath the layers of strife, you're the same, too."

And Buffy could suddenly see it as they glanced around at one another. Dawn was almost completely the same as she had been in Sunnydale. All of them. The only changes, the **_only _**changes were in hair and complexion. It could have been written off with Willow, Xander, Faith, and herself. The slight aging between twenty-two and twenty-seven. They could easily just be aging gracefully. But Spike…she had actually been looking forward to watching Spike age a bit. But he was just as she had always known him to be. Almost as if he were still a vampire and not mortal. And Giles…he was still in his prime. He wasn't showing any signs of aging five years, especially since those five years should have brought with them many changes.

"It's not just since we left," Spike broke the silence. "It's since we came here."

"How is this possible?" Xander muttered.

Suddenly Aragorn was at Buffy's side, a concerned look on his face. She had almost forgotten he was there, hanging back a bit though to let the family have it's reunion. What a sight they must have been, circled, shocked, and silent. "What is wrong?"

Willow looked up at the Ranger, offering no form of greeting and instead going right to the heart of the matter. "We haven't aged."

Aragorn blinked, momentarily confused, before looking them all over. He then shook his head and gave them a puzzled look. "You all look as if you are still in your prime. Shouldn't you be?"

Buffy rolled her eyes and fought the urge to sigh. "No, we…Strider, we're not of the race of Men. We're not like the Númenoreans. We don't live to be two hundred and something, we barely make one."

Willow nodded. "Humans come of age around eighteen, grow into full-adulthood by thirty, are mid-aged at forty-five, and reach old age by sixty."

Aragorn blinked and looked them over again. This time he frowned. "You should have aged a great deal then, were you human."

"We're not human?" Dawn asked, panicked at Aragorn's unintentional implication.

Then there was Arwen.

She gracefully flew over the lawns until she reached the group, a bright smile on her face. "Aragorn! Eirien! Rossell! You have returned!"

Galadriel followed her granddaughter much more composed-looking than Buffy had seen her on the flet above. She immediately took in the air of the group and set to the problem without worrying on greetings. "What is wrong?"

Aragorn opened his mouth, most likely to offer some sort of formal apology, but Buffy was momentarily sick of the conventions of Elven society. "We aren't aging."

For some reason, Arwen and Galadriel were less shocked than Buffy expected them to be. Instead, they both seemed to be worried. "Aren't aging?" Arwen repeated solemnly, her bright cheerfulness gone.

"I never noticed before, but it's true," Xander said with a nod. "Over five years…I'm nearly twenty-eight…and I look like I did when I was twenty-two."

Faith stepped forward and motioned to Giles. "Giles, you should be what? Sixty?"

Giles shot the Slayer a withering glance. "I am fifty-four, Faith."

Aragorn blinked. "Fifty-four, and a lifespan shorter than that of even lesser Men?"

Dawn nodded, a fearful light settling in her eyes. "Giles should be old and fuzzy."

Giles turned his gaze to Dawn. She gave him a small smile. "But you're still forty-nine. A youthful forty-nine might I add."

"Dawn would have been the most noticeable," Buffy offered, trying to turn Giles attention back to the matter at hand. "She was sixteen when we fell here. Should be twenty-one at least. She's still a kid."

Dawn sighed and shrugged. "I never thought about it. I guess like the whole not seeing how you age unless you aren't looking everyday."

Spike cocked his head as he pulled out his pipe, his answer for anything nerve-wracking. "I'm not used to aging, so I've not paid attention."

Galadriel shared a look with her granddaughter before turning to the group. "You are sure you have not aged since you fell?"

"Well…maybe a little," Buffy conceded, though she knew even that much wasn't true. "We should all definitely look older."

"Come with me."

With that, Galadriel was gone. Without a second thought, they all followed.

Willow followed Galadriel to the glen with the Mirror, her sense of foreboding multiplying with each step. They arrived quickly and silently. Galadriel made no move to fill the Mirror, which Willow found odd. She had always filled it in the past.

Galadriel nodded to Arwen, who motioned them close. Then Galadriel stepped in front of Willow.

"Eryniel, may I?" the Elven lady asked lowly as she cupped her hands just in front of Willow's face.

Willow didn't understand, but she knew she trusted Galadriel with her life. "Of course."

Willow stood straight and tall as Galadriel slid her hands forward to cup Willow's jaw. Behind her, Willow felt Aragorn, Spike, and Xander pressing in. Faith, Giles, and Arwen came up on her left and Buffy and Dawn mirrored them on her right.

"This may feel…a little odd," Galadriel whispered.

The world suddenly flashed around Willow, then sped away as she started to sink, back down deep within herself. She felt as if she were plummeting at an impossible speed down into some abyss. She screwed her eyes shut and opened her mouth to either scream or throw up, she wasn't exactly sure. But she had no mouth to open, no stomach to empty. And then, suddenly as the fall had started it stopped.

She opened her eyes, a little dizzy, but feeling overall fine. "Whoa. Okay, that was weird. And kinda floaty."

She stumbled backwards a bit and was caught quickly by Spike. "Okay, lots floaty."

"Is she high?" Xander asked as he appeared by her side, concerned.

Willow shook her head as the world spun around her. "No, no, no…head rush."

"Okay," Buffy drawled as she glanced from Willow to Galadriel, who was looking at Willow with an expression of great pity. "Right. What was that? What happened?"

Willow blinked as she thought to the flash, to what she had seen. It all made sense, of course. It had just been a matter of time before it happened. "They're fighting."

Spike glanced down at the redhead he was supporting. "Who's fighting?"

"The little cells," Willow replied as she tried to right herself. The world was settling back down again and they needed her to explain. She was the brains of the group. She was Miss Science. She could help them understand. She pointed to Spike's hand where it steadied her, pointed to the blue vein visible in his wrist. "Right there."

"Maybe someone who isn't…floaty?" Giles suggested, giving Galadriel a pointed look.

Galadriel glanced at him before turning to share a look with Arwen. "Na…sui adar'lín cenn…a gostannem."

(It is…as your father saw…and we feared.)

Willow fought the urge to roll her eyes. She was several millennia younger than the Lady of the Golden Wood, but even she knew that a comment like that one would do nothing but cause a panic. And she was right.

Dawn was the one who reacted first, her young heart having been through so much pain lately, Willow was surprised she wasn't a completely paranoid freak. She turned large eyes to Arwen. "What is it?"

Arwen sighed and turned her own sad eyes to Dawn. "We feared this might come to pass."

"Did you, now?" Spike quipped as he jostled Willow up to stand on her own.

Galadriel gave one deep solemn nod. "Elrond foresaw this doom when he first looked upon Eirien, Rossell, and Erniethan."

Faith narrowed her eyes at this. "Doom?"

Arwen nodded. "You will live uncertainly in these lands…especially having spent so much time with our people."

Buffy shook her head. "I don't understand."

Galadriel reached over and caught Dawn's arm in her hand. She raised it and held it out, palm up, so that they all could see the pulse in her wrist. "The blood in your veins is not purely of any single race. There are many different bloods within you, all of you. In any other being produced by the mixing of races, the war is fought when they are being formed. The war is over when they come into the world. The bloods within have claimed pieces of yourselves, have influenced your formation already."

"Genetics," Willow said, putting out a term she knew they'd be able to follow more easily.

"In you the war was dormant when you are born," Galadriel continued as she released Dawn's arm. "There was no fight."

"That's not scientifically possible," Buffy replied firm in her logic. "Genetics and DNA, even I know it doesn't work like that. And that's saying a lot."

Galadriel cocked her head in a small conceding nod. "Call it what you will, but we are simply telling you what is."

Spike shrugged as he stepped past Willow so he was closer to Galadriel. "Well, I personally never cared much for science, so I'll buy it. What does this mean for us?"

Arwen was the one that answered. "In your realm, everyone is like this, everyone having this blood-war waged. Your blood does not feel the pull of like blood to it. But here, in Lórien…"

Arwen trailed off, as if unwilling to finish. So Willow did it for her. "There exists the pull of like blood."

Galadriel inclined her head slightly. "Your Elven blood, empowered by the call of the Elven blood that surrounds it, has gained dominance."

This caused everyone to stop. Willow almost smiled as she saw the realization dawn on her friends' faces, as they began to understand.

"We," Xander started slowly as he looked up at Galadriel and Arwen in shock. "We're turning into Elves?"

Galadriel smiled slightly then shook her head. "No. I doubt that anything could turn you fully Elvish. But you will begin to feel Elf-like effects. Longer life. Enhanced senses. You might even grow an inch or two."

"It's impossible," Giles at last concluded.

He was right, or at least he should have been. Willow remembered enough of science to know that. But for some reason, this time Giles was very wrong. "No, it's not," she told him, knowing he would trust her conclusions. "I saw it. It's happening, just like they say."

The air left Faith quickly in an empty laugh. Then she planted her hands on her hips and looked up at Arwen. "What about us? B and I haven't been among Elves for a long time. We've been with…"

Faith turned to motion to Aragorn, who had been standing silently just outside the circle letting the events play out. But Faith stopped when she laid eyes on him.

He gave her a rueful smile. "You, dear Rossell, have been with a Dúnadan. With a lifespan of thrice that of lesser Men, you would age little in five years."

Galadriel turned to Buffy and cupped her hands in front of her face as she had done earlier with Willow. "Eirien, come."

Buffy looked from Galadriel's eyes to her hands to Willow, then back up to Galadriel. "Uh, I really don't want to float."

Galadriel gave her a small smile. "I do not have to pull you own with me to see. You shall not feel a thing."

Buffy hesitated a moment longer, then nodded. Willow watched as Galadriel slid her hands around Buffy's face, then closed her eyes in concentration.

After a moment of silence, Galadriel spoke. "Your Elven blood gained dominance while you were with us. You have no blood of Númenor in you, dear Dagnirulun. And having no other like pull, your Elven blood remains in control."

Galadriel opened her eyes and smiled at Buffy. Buffy just looked stunned. "Oh."

Then the Elven lady turned to Faith. "Rossell?"

Faith swallowed thickly, then nodded and squeezed her eyes shut. Galadriel gently closed her eyes and cupped Faith's face in her hands. "Ah…the blood of Númenor is battling for control with your Elven nature. But your Elven blood is far more powerful than that of the Westernesse. The blood feud will prolong you as well in this way, having two long-lived bloods fighting for dominance."

Faith opened her eyes slowly and evenly held Galadriel's gaze. "How long?"

Galadriel hesitated momentarily, then let her hands fall from Faith's face. "For you, remaining as you are…four hundred."

Xander snapped his head around. "Four hundred _years_?"

Galadriel nodded, giving Faith a sympathetic look. "At the very least. Perhaps, a great deal longer."

Faith barely even blinked as she took it all in. She just glanced around at the rest of the Gang. "What about them?"

"For the rest of you as you are…I cannot be sure," Galadriel admitted slowly. "I'd say at least six hundred. Perhaps as much as a thousand."

Buffy sat down on the ground as her legs gave out from underneath her. Dawn just gaped at Galadriel, mouth wide open. Giles's expression became closed and Willow could practically see his mind working as he began to calculate what this would mean for them. Spike didn't seem much bothered, though Willow could only guess what his emotions were. Xander was just frozen in place. Willow herself was a bit surprised at the large number, though she had known it would be big.

"So…" Dawn whispered, her voice rough with emotion. "Forever and a day."

Arwen shook her head. "No, you will not become Immortals."

"A thousand years might as well be forever," Giles muttered under his breath. "The entire known civilized history of our race was only a few thousand years."

Willow glanced up. Galadriel seem to understand their grief. Arwen was sympathetic as well. But the eyes that held the most sadness for them were Aragorn's. For only he could truly understand mortality and the denial of death.

Willow turned to Buffy, who was still on the ground at her feet. "So…welcome home."

Buffy was content. She had a belly full of delicious delicacies that Willow had practically force fed her at the feast they'd had in honor of their return. She was with her little sister, blissfully walking in the golden evening through their home. And she was actively ignoring everything Galadriel and Arwen had revealed earlier that afternoon. Life, in short, was good. "I think that was quite possibly the best meal I've had in my entire life."

"Quite possibly?" Dawn repeated in a playfully mocking tone. "When did you turn into Giles?"

Buffy shrugged as she leaned slightly against her sister. "Around the same time we started to become part-Elves."

Dawn snorted and shook her head. "Our lives suck."

"Yep," Buffy agreed, looking around her surroundings. Wherever she went in Middle-Earth, whatever wonders she saw, the glowing city of the Galadhrim was her favorite. It was the most beautiful to her eyes. And she was happy to be back, for however long she was blessed to be back.

"So, tell me," Dawn said softly, breaking her from her reverie. "What's it like? Out there?"

Buffy smiled as she looked at her ever-changing younger sister. Though her body was the same, it was her spirit that was different. "I can't believe that in five years you actually stayed in one place."

Dawn shrugged dismissively, though her cheeks burned red. It was true, Dawn had always been a wanderer. But for some odd reason, she was content to stay in Lórien. "Where else is there to go?"

Buffy chuckled lowly. "Okay, I'll give you that."

"Come on," Dawn said turning to walk slightly sideways so that she could face her sister. "You have to tell me."

Buffy raised her eyebrows. "Why is that?"

"You owe me," Dawn pointed out. "Only letters since you been gone. I like how that whole 'I'll see you at least once a year' thing turned out."

Buffy felt her face burn. But no matter how she tried to rationalize it in her mind, Dawn was right. She had left over three years ago and had not been back since. "Well, we tried, really. It just didn't turn out that way."

Dawn didn't look convinced. "Uh huh."

Buffy didn't blame her. She wasn't exactly sure if she was convinced herself. "At least I wrote."

"But never in any detail," Dawn said with a sigh. "All I got were names, nothing about what it was like."

Buffy gave in. "Okay, well, we spent most of our time among the Dúnedain. There are some great people up there. You should really meet Aragorn's mom."

Dawn nodded. "You wrote about her. What's her name again?"

"Gilraen the Fair, daughter of Dí rhael," Buffy said with a smile as she brought her memories of the lady up to the front of her mind. She had known about her for a long time, of course Aragorn had a mother. But he had only just introduced Buffy and Faith and Spike to Gilraen shortly before Spike left.

"The Fair?" Dawn repeated curiously.

"She's very beautiful," Buffy said, meaning every word. It was a bit of an understatement, though. Gilraen was gorgeous, and not just in looks. "And her spirit…you'd like her. She reminds me of Mom."

Dawn smiled softly. "Then I know I'd like her."

"She really means a lot to Aragorn," Buffy said as Dawn and she fell back into step side by side. "She lives in Rivendell, but she said something to Faith that makes her think that Gilraen will go back to live with the Dúnedain. Aragorn doesn't want that and I can't say I blame him. The Dúnedain are a good and noble people, but they live hard lives. The Rangers are one thing, but living in Eriador is a challenge no matter where you are. Except perhaps the Shire, but Hobbits are very other-people-phobic. I've been through the roads twice and still haven't seen a Shire Hobbit, though there were some in Bree.

"Bree's a really nice town. Kinda reminds me of something out of the 1800s. Spike was really at home there. I think he kinda hopes we settle there or somewhere else in Bree-land. I guess it's familiar to him and that comforts him. It wouldn't really be so bad to live there. The people are mostly of Men, we'd blend okay. And there's lots of things we could do. You know, shops, or maybe run a farm outside the city. It would be nice, just the seven of us. There's lots of things to do, lots of nice people. There's this bar-slash-inn, The Prancing Pony, it's great. The family that runs it is really nice. Rutherford, he's a sweetie, though you wouldn't know it by looking at him. And his grandson, Barly, well, he's a cutie too. Well, not cute-hot, cute-sweet. He has a bit of a crush on me cause I went and saved his life from some Orcs outside of Bree once, though he doesn't like Spike and Faith. Absolutely hates Strider, or, uh, Aragorn.

"Stupid about the name thing, huh? Why can't people pick a name and stick with it. I mean, short nick names I understand, but whole new names are weird. Halbarad hates it, thinks it's ridiculous, too. I wrote about him, he…Dawn?"

It suddenly became clear to Buffy that her sister was no longer hanging on her every word. Instead, Dawn was staring back behind them in the direction they had just come. And she was very pale. And getting paler. As if she were scared. "Dawnie? Is something wrong? Dawn?"

Dawn suddenly turned to her, grabbed her hand, and started to pull her down a different path. "Let's go to Cerin Amroth to watch the sunset."

Buffy pulled her hand out of her sister's, giving Dawn a confused look. "Dawn? Hate to break it to you, but the sun has pretty much set. It'll be well past dark before we can get to Cerin Amroth."

"Then we'll go stargazing," Dawn tried again, grabbing once more for Buffy's hand.

Buffy's slayer reflexes were too quick and she easily shifted out of Dawn's reach. "Stargazing? Dawnie, I'm tired. Why can't we finish our walk around the city?"

"Come on," she urged, trying for a playful tone though Buffy could see her sister's desperation beginning to come out. "Where's your sense of adventure?"

Buffy narrowed her eyes at her sister. She might have missed the past three years, but Buffy knew her sister very well. And what she knew of Dawn made her instantly suspicious. "Dawn, why do you suddenly want to get away from here? What are you hiding?"

"Yes, Meluiell, what could you possibly be hiding?"

Both girls turned at the dry remark to find an Elf standing directly behind them. Buffy recognized the elf instantly as one of Arwen's brothers. Elladan, she thought, for he had sat next to his sister at the feast.

With Elladan was Faith, who seemed content to be back in Lórien, and Xander, who seemed suddenly very uneasy. He glanced from Elladan to Dawn before giving Buffy a small smile. "Hey, Buff."

Buffy nodded her greetings. "Hey, Xander, Faith, Elladan. Wanna join us?"

Xander's panicky smile seemed to become forcefully wider.

"Buffy, this isn't Elladan," Dawn said softly beside her. "It's Elrohir."

Buffy blinked as she looked back up at the Elf. She had not met Elrohir before at the dinner as he had been patrolling the forest with Orophin and Rúmil. She had known that he and his brother were twins, but she would have bet her life that the Elf before her was Elladan. "Whoa."

Faith gave her a look that told Buffy she was in complete agreement. "Yeah."

"Sorry," Buffy told Elrohir, though she could already see it wasn't necessary.

"You need not apologize," he dismissed with a smile. "Even our own family oft times finds it difficult to tell my brother and I apart."

Buffy nodded, agreeing whole-heartedly with his point. She was quickly beginning to see that no matter how long she knew the twins that, short of tattooing their names on their foreheads, she would never be able to tell them apart.

Then a strange thought struck her and she turned to her sister. "How did you do it?"

Dawn glanced up at her and opened her mouth to reply, but was cut short by Elrohir. "Meluiell has become very adept at sensing my presence."

Dawn gave the elf an icy look. "You're the one that's been avoiding me."

Elrohir looked down at Dawn and they held each other's gaze for a long, uncomfortable moment before he turned to Buffy and offered a small bow. "So this is the famed Eirien Dagnirulun. I have heard much about you."

Buffy smiled as she bowed back to the son of Elrond. "Strider spoke of you and your brother lots. And I've heard that you two and Xander make quite the interesting little group."

Elrohir smiled widely in amusement and brought a hand up to clap Xander on the shoulder. "I must admit, Rowinn's friendship is one that I greatly value."

Xander threw Elrohir a sardonic grin. "Love you, too, Elrohir."

"It's great to finally meet you," Buffy continued, smiling widely at the Elf, knowing that she was going to like him.

"It is my distinct pleasure," Elrohir replied regally. "I hope to one day hear some tales from your past. I have heard many an intriguing rumor."

Buffy nodded and sighed. "Just wish there was time now. My luck you guys would be leaving just as I got here."

"Leaving?"

Buffy looked over to see Dawn staring at the Elf in front of her and was surprised at the vast array of emotions playing out on her sister's face. First their was shock, then sadness, then betrayal, then anger, then back to shock.

Faith gave Dawn a good-natured slug on the shoulder. "Hey, brat, didn't you listen to anything at dinner?"

Dawn didn't take her eyes off of Elrohir. He, in-turn, gazed down at her with a cold, unreadable expression.

Faith's smile faltered as she started to notice the tension. Xander was watching the pair anxiously while shooting Buffy random nervous grins. Buffy was beginning to understand that something was going on here, something that she instinctively knew she wouldn't like.

When Elrohir spoke to answer Buffy, he never took his eyes off Dawn. "My father has requested that Elladan and I return to Imladris," he said in an emotionless, formal tone. "We leave tomorrow."

Dawn's face turned to stone. "Well," she said shortly. "Goodbye, then."

With that, Dawn turned and stormed off in the direction of Haldir's.

Buffy watched her go, confused and surprised. Faith was just confused. But Xander, once Dawn was out of sight, became angry. He turned to the Elf at his side and slugged him in the arm, not-so-good-naturedly. "You didn't tell her?"

Elrohir gave Xander a withering glare as he replied acidly, "Since when do I need to report my comings and goings to your sister?"

Xander didn't back down and Buffy watched in growing confusion as her friend squared off with the testy Elf, glaring at him as if he were a naughty two-year-old. "Elrohir, I thought you were going to try harder."

This seemed to try at Elrohir's patience, for he gave Xander a cold look. "She was the one that chose to turn away from this."

Xander raised his hands to the sky and growled his frustration before turning to follow the Elf. "Jarnel took us all in."

Elrohir stopped and spun around defensively. "Even so."

"She is twenty-one-years-old," Xander pointed out calmly. "You are twenty-one-hundred-years-old."

"I am twenty-eight-hundred," the Elf corrected automatically.

Xander rolled his eyes. "Whatever! Okay, you're just making it look worse on you. My point is that she has a right to act a little bit childish. You don't. this is really hard for her. I thought you would at least try. Instead you haven't spoken since before."

Buffy did not like this one little bit. "Xander, what is going on?"

Xander either didn't hear her or ignored her. Instead, he just gazed at Elrohir earnestly. "Is this where you want this to end?"

"Rowinn…" the Elf started in a pained tone, then stopped. He glanced down at the ground for a moment and Buffy recognized the signs of a heartbroken man. Which she knew she did not like.

Elrohir regained control of his emotions and looked back up at Xander, stoic mask back in place. "This concerns you not."

"Bullshit," Xander snapped automatically.

"If you insist," Elrohir growled. Then he turned and hurried away, though Buffy noted he went in the same direction Dawn had.

Xander humped in frustration as he turned back to Faith and Buffy. "You know, Dawn's right. He is arrogant."

Without a moment's hesitation, Buffy latched a hand onto Xander's arm in a vice-like grip and turned him forcefully so that he was eye-to-eye with her. "Why does it look like my little sister is having a lover's quarrel with an Elf?"

Xander stared down at Buffy in horror as if just remembering she was there. "I, uh…I should go this way--"

Buffy tightened her grip and moved to counter Xander's desperate move to retreat. "No, no, no, no, no. You're staying right here and answering my question."

Xander looked down at Buffy, then sighed in defeat. "I…I can't tell you."

"Can't?" Faith repeated as she joined the interrogation, looking more than a little curious herself.

Xander nodded. "Dawn made us all swear--"

Buffy released her grip in Xander's arm and stepped closer to him, crossing her arms in front of her as she glared him down. "Does Dawn have the strength to rip your arms off and then beat you to death with the bloody stubs?"

Xander's eyes widened, but he still shook his head. "She'll kill me. She only just started to really forgive me and I had to almost get myself killed to do it."

This was even more news to Buffy's ears. Whatever she and Faith had missed, it had been huge. "What the hell happened!"

Xander shook his head again, this time more firmly. "She has to be the one to tell you."

Buffy stared at Xander for a moment as she weighted her options. Then, coming to a conclusion, she nodded. "Fine."

Then she turned in the direction that her sister and the Elf had gone and started to after them. Faith followed her without a word.

Xander's eyes went wide as he scrambled after her. "Whoa. Where are we going?"

Buffy threw him a look. "To ask Dawn what the hell is going on."

Xander rubbed his sore arm as he followed miserably. "Oh, she's gonna kill me."

Dawn hurried down the path, wanting to put as much distance between her and that damnable Elf as possible. But he was too quick, she knew that the moment she felt him turn to follow her.

"Meluiell!"

She grimaced at the sound of his strained and frustrated voice. He was angry. She'd just as soon let him be. It was easier if her were angry. It was then that it was easy to hate him.

"Leave me alone!" she yelled over her shoulder without breaking stride.

She passed a couple of familiar Elves as she hurried along and noted with humor that they turned and headed the other way. Even though the last few months had seen an uncomfortable silence fall between Dawn and Elrohir, the Galadhrim seemed to be more wary of them than they had been before. While most were uncomfortable to be around one of them, almost everyone was loathe to be around both of them. Dawn understood what they feared more with each passing day. The motherload of all fights, the big one that she knew was coming.

"Meluiell, wait!"

He was right behind her. She cursed the Elves and their light and swift feet as she whirled around to face him. "Oh, _now_ you wanna talk!"

Elrohir stopped just short of barreling into her, face red from either exertion or his emotions. Dawn figured it was the latter since he was a damn, dirty Elf. "Yes."

Dawn planted herself in front of him, hands on her hips as she regarded him coolly. "Fine."

Silence.

She rolled her eyes, exasperated. "Well?"

"I did not know for certain until today," he explained to her calmly.

That wasn't even about to fly with her. "But you suspected for a while."

She watched the muscles of his jaw tense as his anger grew. "I did not have reason to believe you would be bothered."

"I'm not bothered!" she said firmly and turned to leave.

He blocked her, holding out his arms in a sign of surrender. "Meluiell, please. Peace."

"Peace?" she repeated in disbelief. "You're leaving and you didn't tell me!"

"I did not believe you would care! For two months we have not even spoken a word! That was your doing!"

"Agh!" Dawn screamed in frustration as she rounded on him. It was true, they hadn't spoken since Jarnel had come to Lórien. Elrohir was angry at her about the Man and accepting his courtship offer, had been acting like she had cheated on him. "You made it perfectly clear to me that you want nothing to do with me! What right do you think you have to get jealous if I do a little harmless flirting!"

"Harmless?" Elrohir repeated in disbelief. "That Man nearly killed your brother!"

Dawn could have sworn she saw red in that moment. "So let Xander get pissy, you have no right!"

"I have every right," he growled lowly as he glared at her furiously.

"And what right is that?" she asked as she crossed her arms in front of her. "You told me you did not want me in your life. I'm trying to respect that wish."

She turned to go, but was suddenly stopped as he grabbed her. He turned her towards him, looking down at her intensely. "And what do you want from me?"

Dawn felt it then, just as she always did when he got to close. The connection, slipping in between them, trying to grab hold.

"Tell me, Meluiell," he demanded of her. "What do you want?

It was bubbling between them, hot and electrifying and coursing through her and into him then back again.

"Do you want me to leave?" he asked, his voice as hard as stone.

And even though it called to her, she felt the confusion and resentment and all the hurt and pain insider her grounding her to the world.

"Do you want me to stay?" he pressed on, though his tone became as soft as the niphredil on Cerin Amroth.

She almost wanted to just give in, let the connection take her, but she couldn't be sure.

Then his tone took an icy edge as he asked, "Do you want me to have never existed in the first place?"

The fear of the unknown, of the connection, of everything between them, it kept her from going.

"Do you want me with you?" he whispered, tone burning with an ardor long suppressed.

She shivered as she felt the passion call to her, warring and mixing with the swirl of emotions inside.

"What do you want, Dawn?" he asked, this time pleadingly, as if begging her for an answer. "What do you want from me?"

"I don't know," she protested as it all started to become too much.

"Yes, you do," he pushed, his voice everywhere, even in her head. "Tell me. Tell me what you want."

And suddenly, she did know what she wanted.

"I want it to end!" she shouted at him as she pushed him away, feeling relieved and powerful and good for the first time in months for having just finally admitting it. "I want it over! Done! I want it to end!"

But when she looked up at Elrohir, all the warm strong feelings surging through her turned to ice in an instant. He was looking at her as if she'd just killed him. It was all there, in his eyes. And she knew in that moment she might as well have killed him.

Then that stony mask he hid behind was back. "And so it has."

His soft, simple words shattered a part inside of her, a part she had not known existed until it was too late. And the fear she felt in that moment made every other fear she had ever experienced pale in comparison.

"Elrohir…" she started weakly even though she knew it was too late. She had made her last terrible mistake.

"I bear you no ill will," he said calmly in that even voice two millennia of life had given him.

She felt like she was breaking. Her breath was choppy and there was a sick burning pain in her stomach. "Wait…"

He nodded formally to her, one of goodbye. "I wish you joy, Meluiell, truly I do. Namárië, min'ní n."

(Farewell, my One.)

Then he turned and very calmly started to walk away. And she could only watch in open-mouthed horror as he did.

The world seemed to stop with him gone. And she just stood there, feeling the pain.

"Is this what I'm not going to like?"

Dawn looked up to find her sister standing a few feet away, fuming in all her Slayer glory. Faith and Xander were just behind her, both lo0oking extremely uncomfortable about being there.

Dawn sighed. She knew she didn't really have the strength to deal with Buffy, not that night. "Buffy--"

"Dawn, what are you thinking?" Buffy broke into her tirade angrily. "Haven't you learned anything from all of our mistakes?"

Faith and Xander both shot Buffy annoyed looks at this comment.

"You know, B, we can't throw stones," Faith pointed out. "If Little Sister wants to get her kicks from Elrohir, let her."

Buffy turned her glare to Faith at this. "She's too young--"

"Oh, bullshit, Buffy," Dawn snapped as her pain turned to anger inside of her. "I'm fucking twenty-one! By the time you were twenty-one, you'd screwed Angel, Parker, Riley, _and _Spike and you'd died twice. I'm the legal age to do just about every restricted thing back home. I'm old enough to do whatever the hell I want!"

Buffy scoffed and looked at Dawn as if she were a petulant toddler. "You still act like a child."

Dawn was so fed up with her sister at that moment that she almost wished she hadn't come back. "You'd like to think so wouldn't you? Face it, Buffy, it was your decision to leave, your decision not to come back and while you were gone, I grew up! Just because you missed it doesn't mean it didn't happen."

Buffy stood still and silent for several moments, just staring at Dawn with this painfully hard look on her face. And Dawn knew then she had found her mark for the second time in about ten minutes. And Buffy was hurting over it.

But that didn't mean she would let go of anything. "Even still," the blonde Slayer continued slowly in a much more calm but strained toned. "If it was some kind of physical arrangement, that would be one thing. But getting emotionally involved with an immortal is the _worst_ mistake you could ever make."

Dawn suddenly wanted to be fourteen again, because that hellish year seemed so much simpler to all of this. At least then, she hadn't felt like she was slowly being smothered to death in the inside.

"Don't you think I know that?" she asked Buffy as she gave into the weariness inside her and let the mask that hid her emotions drop. "How many illustrations of that point do I need to see before I know how bad that path can be?"

Buffy seemed torn. Dawn could see that while she was heartbroken at the sight of Dawn's sudden pain, she was still clinging to her anger and frustration at the situation. "Then why in god's name would you choose an Elf?"

"Choose?" Dawn repeated, the word tearing at her heart like a jagged stone. "Like I had a choice!"

"There's always a choice!" Buffy said hotly as she took a step towards Dawn.

"Buffy, he's my soul mate!" she finally admitted, not wanting to hear any more of it.

She saw instantly that her sister didn't fully understand, because she went right back to reasoning with her. "Dawn, I understand how deeply you feel--"

"No, Buffy, I mean he's my One!" she clarified, hating the words as she said them. "As in Elvish soul mates! We've had maybe three civil conversations in the two years we've known each other, much less become involved!"

This revelation caused Buffy to freeze as she took all of this in. Behind her, Faith started shooting her and Xander shocked and confused looks. Xander just gazed at Dawn with a sad look on his face and she could almost feel him willing her to not break.

"I don't understand," Buffy said simply even though Dawn could practically see the anger going up out of her sister as comprehension slowly came to her.

"Buffy, I know you heard about the concept of two Elves finding one another and being Meant," Dawn said wearily anyways, wanting her sister to know what was going on as quickly as possible so she could be her big sister for her.

Buffy nodded slowly. "Yeah, of course I have."

"And you know it isn't really limited to Elves," Xander added lowly, so Dawn didn't have to become even more torn up explaining everything. "It can be between two Elves or an Elf and a Man. I guess theoretically it could be between an Elf and a Dwarf or an Elf and a Hobbit, too."

"An Elf and an Orc," Faith muttered as she started to pace, giving Dawn odd looks every few moments.

"Eew." Dawn made a face as she considered the possibility even while she was thankful to Faith for not really jumping into the conversation.

Buffy just stared at her sister, expression some strange mixture of fear, sadness, disbelief, and regret. "You…it's impossible. You can't be the soul mate of an Elf. You don't belong to this dimension. A soul from one dimension can't be the soul mate of a soul from a different dimension."

"Well, tell that to fate, cause she didn't get the memo," Dawn growled mostly to herself.

Buffy hesitated for a moment, seeming unsure of it all. "Are you sure you're Meant?"

"Yeah," Dawn replied wearily. "Pretty damn sure."

Then she looked up at her sister and knew it was time to just give in and admit it all. "I don't even like him, Buffy," she started miserably. "I don't like him, but I love him. For no reason. I loved him from the moment I saw him, and I don't know why. And this stupid thing, this weird connection, I can feel when he's near and I know what he's feeling and why and how he thinks and…oh, god."

She broke then. Everything crashed down and she "I feel empty. I've always been empty and I didn't know it. And I know he can fill the void, my body knows it, but…I don't want this stupid thing, it's so forced and I can't know if it's me, my choice, or this connection.

She froze, arms wrapped around herself tightly as the tears coursed down her cheek. "I don't want to lose myself to this."

Arms were around her and Buffy was suddenly holding her close as she had when she was younger. "Baby…"

Dawn just clutched at Buffy desperately as the pair sank to the ground. She let all her emotions come forward, let all the feelings she had been working against for over a year surge through her as she took shelter in her big sister's comforting embrace as she had for as long as she could remember. "Buffy, I'm so confused."

Buffy just held her close, hands running up and down her back soothingly as she started to cry. "Why didn't you send for me?" she asked gently,

"There's nothing you can do," Dawn admitted to both Buffy and herself even though she found herself burrowing deeper into the safety of her sister. "I have to work this out myself."

"At least now you have a long time to work it out."

Dawn let a giggle slip at this comment, a giggle that somehow became a sob as reality and the present became clearer at the thought of the future. "I don't want him to go," she whispered, knowing it was the truth.

She had told him she wanted it to end. But she didn't mean she wanted him gone. She just wanted so desperately for the confusion to end. She wanted to know what was going on. She wanted to know whether or not _she_ loved _him_, not that she loved her soul mate. And he thought she meant him and now he was going to go away thinking that. And she was never going to see him again. She would never know…know what he wanted.

Buffy tucked a stray strand Dawn's hair back behind her ear in a familiar soothing gesture. "I think it's best that he does."

Dawn could almost feel her heart breaking even though she found herself nodding. "I know."

Faith felt awkward and emotionally drained after having witnessed what had passed between Buffy and Dawn. But the evening was far from over. They gathered in Celeborn's study as they had always done in the past. Everyone looked up as a bathed and refreshed Faith walked in, the last to arrive.

Dawn and Buffy were there, Dawn much calmer now that she had had time to get her emotion's under control. They sat together in the far corner of the room. Xander and Willow sat close to the Summers girls in seats against the adjoining wall, both appearing to be looking forward to the coming conversation as much as one looked forward to a trip to the dentist. The twins were with their sister at the opposite side of the room, seated on a bench waiting patiently. Giles was leaning against the doorframe cleaning his glasses. Spike was on a settee against the wall opposite of where Buffy and Dawn were sitting. Aragorn was off to the side by himself. Celeborn and Galadriel stood in center of the room

Galadriel smiled at Faith as she entered the room. "Sit. We have much to discuss."

Faith hesitated before taking a seat next to Spike. He looked over at her as she sat down, expression grim. Faith looked from him to the somber Galadriel, concern at its peak. "So, what's all this about?"

"Two months ago," Celeborn began slowly, as if choosing his words carefully, "we were approached by a young Man of Mirkwood. He asked for our help with Dol Guldor. He told us that Sauron was more active there than he had been for a great many years."

"We sent with him a group to look upon the fortress and verify his claim," Galadriel continued. "Haldir led this party. With him went Elladan and Elrohir. Also with them was Orophin and Rowinn."

Celborn turned to look at Xander as he said, "There he faced his most mighty task."

"The Dark Lord knows you are here," Galadriel said frankly. "He knows what you are. He knows your hearts and minds. He knows how to break you."

Faith looked around the room hesitantly, looking for more. But it was obvious that everyone, right down to Aragorn, had known this and was waiting for their responses with guarded expressions. Faith let out a breath and shrugged. "Well, yay, then. Gotta admit, I was getting kinda tired of keeping up the act for the baddies. So, do we know how he's going to try and kill us?"

"He does not wish you dead," Arwen cut in, voice low and grave.

"He wants us…" Willow tried to explain anxiously, "wants us to join him."

Faith wasn't so much surprised or even terrified at these words than she was amused. She raised a doubtful brow as she fought the urge to smile. "And, uh, how, pray tell, does he even hope to accomplish that?"

Galadriel was not as amused as Faith. "The Seven are not lost."

These words, however, caused Faith to more than blink. She knew what they were talking about, years of study under Arwen had seen to that. '_Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone_'. The Seven Ring of Power, given to the Dwarves by Sauron the Deceiver thousands of years ago in an attempt to subvert them and bring them under his dominion. Many attributed the failure of the Rings to seduce the Dwarves to the race's hardiness. Faith, who had met only three Dwarves in her travels, figured it had less to do with hardiness and more to do with stubbornness.

Since the whole conquering the Dwarves thing was such a big failure, Sauron had made a pretty decent effort to get them back. But by most counts he only had two in his possession, at best three. All the others were thought to have been eaten by dragons. It would figure that this assumption was right, though. It was an assumption that played in their favor, so of course it was wrong.

She shot a look over at Buffy to find her sister Slayer looking to her with the same kind of suspicious hesitancy that she had. Buffy turned to Galadriel, expression questioning. "The Seven?"

Galadriel was still for a moment before nodding. "The Dark Lord has them all."

Faith was frustrated with this information. Bad enough Sauron had the Nine under his command, but the Seven…well, it was what it was and she couldn't really do anything about it. And all wasn't completely lost, for they had the biggest advantage in the charade of all. The One.

Buffy seemed to be having the same thought, because after a moment's consideration, she shrugged. "Matters little. He has to have the One and that he's not getting."

"He has recrafted the Seven," Celeborn pressed on, giving both Buffy and Faith hard looks. "They have been remolded for new bearers."

Faith's breath caught as she considered these words. The Rings of Power had taken the Elves a very long time to make, four hundred years to be precise. Each one had been made deliberately, with long thought of the bearers. The Seven had been made specifically for the Dwarves. For the Rings to have been remolded was a huge deal. It would mean Sauron had found a new target, a new people he wanted under his dominion, a people of strength and…

And then it hit her. Giles, Willow, Xander, Dawn, Spike, Buffy, herself. Seven. Seven rings…for seven Scoobies.

Faith stood as the thought settled in her mind. "If you're suggesting--"

"He will try and make the Chosen of Sunnydale the bearers of the Seven," Celeborn cut her off, shooting her a firm look. "You will all have to face this test."

Buffy barely even blinked as she calmly took this all in. Then she looked up at Xander. "Is that what you did? You were tested?"

Xander licked his lips as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. And then he nodded. "He thought I was the weakest link. He thought he could get us all if I fell. It's hard. Tempting. Even now. They've been remade to fit _us_. Every detail."

Buffy shared a look with Faith before moving to embrace her old friend. "Xander…"

Xander sighed as he returned the hug, then moved back so that he could meet the blonde's gaze. "I wanted to, Buffy. I really wanted it. With every fiber. It took everything I had and then some to look away."

"In one way he picked the best one to go after," Dawn said as she looked at the man in front of her adoringly. "You are the heart, Xand. If he got you, we all _would_ follow."

"But in every other way, he picked the worst," Buffy continued with a smile as she sat down in the empty seat at Xander's right. "Of all of us, hyena possessions barred, you're the one that hasn't ever really screwed up. You're, like, the purest of all of us."

"Rowinn Meldirin," Galadriel said as she smiled at Xander warmly, face glowing with pride.

Willow reached over and squeezed Xander's hand affectionately. "Thank the Valar for Anya and the Mirror."

"The Mirror?" Faith repeated as the people in the know lost her once again.

"Xander was sent a message via the Mirror shortly before he left for Dol Guldor," Giles explained.

"It was a message from Anya," Xander said softly. "She wanted me to see what would happen if I failed. Give me an incentive not to let that happen."

Faith frowned, not liking where this could go. "What did you see?"

Xander looked up at Faith before shaking his head firmly. "No. You don't want to know."

Buffy blinked in surprise. "Was it that bad?"

Xander looked over his shoulder at the gathered Elves before nodding. "Let's just say that few if any people in this room would live through it."

Faith looked where Xander had, and was surprised to see Galadriel, Celeborn, Elladan, Elrohir, Arwen, and Aragorn seemed unaffected by this news, as if resolved in the knowledge that they would die if the Scoobies fell. And Faith knew that they would be her first logical strike.

"Jesus Christ," she muttered, running her hands over her thighs nervously.

"It couldn't be that bad," Buffy denied in a small voice.

Xander looked down for a moment before leaning in so he could speak lowly, as if it would do any good with the Elves and their super-hearing. "Don't you see? If we fall, that's it. We know where It is. They'll never be able to ready themselves to fight against us."

Faith's eyes widened as she realized what Xander was talking about. The Ring. "Shit."

"What do we do?" Buffy asked breathlessly.

"We trust you, Eirien," Celeborn was quick to reassure. "With more than our lives. We are trusting you with the fate of this world. I believe you all to be good people. Noble, brave, true."

"We trust you not to succumb," Galadriel reaffirmed her husband's statement of trust. "You will choose the nobler road. And you will aid us in our victory."

"I think…" Faith began, but was unable to find the trust in herself that these Elves put in her. "I don't know."

"We trust you," Galadriel repeated firmly. "And in token of our trust…I have shared with your family something I could not before. That day the second portal opened, something did come through."

Buffy frowned. "But you said--"

"I know what I said," Galadriel cut Buffy off, a look of guilt on her face. "But this is what is. I do not know what it was, but I do believe it was a living being."

"A being?" Faith repeated, confused.

Dawn nodded. "It could have been from anywhere."

Xander looked at the ground a moment before he raised his gaze to meet first Buffy's, then Faith's. "I was shown one of the New Watcher's Council polos in Dol Guldor."

"Another person from our world?" Buffy breathed as the possibilities hit her. "But they would have fallen right on top of Dawn."

"They were taken away," Galadriel said softly. "I do not know where or by what."

"Is there any way we can find out?" Faith asked, this new twist pounding in her head.

"I have tried," Galadriel told the two Slayers. "Gandalf tried. Elrond tried. Saruman the White tried. Eryniel has tried. Meluiell has tried. But none of us were successful."

"There's nothing more we can do?" Buffy asked, eyes pleading for an option.

Galadriel looked so guilty at her own limitations in that moment. "No."

"It's most likely too late now, anyways," Willow said bitterly. "They did all they could in the beginning, and that was two years ago. Whatever Sauron wanted, he got. Once he had what he wanted, I doubt he kept…the source around much longer."

Buffy sighed. "So not only does he know who we are, he could possibly know all about us."

"Eldahini," Faith found herself muttering darkly.

Xander's eyes snapped up to her and watched her knowingly. "So, you've heard that too, huh?"

Faith snorted and almost smiled when she heard Buffy do the exact same thing. She had almost been physically ill when she'd heard the first of the 'legends' of the Eldahini. It had taken her a moment to place the familiar tale of a woman warrior who was so committed to the destruction of her enemies that she had followed a mortal enemy into the land of nightmares in order to rescue the loved one he held hostage. But then she remembered her ordeal with Angel, Angelus, and Orpheus.

The legends ran one of two ways: they were either completely distorted to make the Eldahini sound like the most horrifying of evils, or they were just as skewed making the Eldahini sound like heroes straight out of a fairytale. Faith wasn't sure which way she would rather be viewed, but she did know that if the stories had to be known, she would rather people knew the truth. But there was no stopping the stories, not without revealing herself as the subject of them. As was, even though there were names associated with the tales, she, Buffy, and Spike hadn't been connected. And it wasn't likely that they would be. Though there was a dark and light version of every story, the heroic ones were gaining in popularity. People, it seemed, needed the comforting thought of a hero to wrap themselves in as the Shadow grew darker around Middle-Earth. Faith's reputation in Bree was tied with Strider's, which was far from heroic. Not dark, but not heroic either.

"The tales of the Eldahini originate in Mordor," Willow explained to Faith and Buffy. "He does know everything about us. He sent people out into the world with stories about us, probably trying to smoke us out."

"Those stories don't use our names, though," Buffy pointed out. "They use the names the Elves gave us."

"Which means there's a spy," Dawn continued her sister's thought. "Here, Rivendell, the Rangers, or Orthanc. Those are the only places people know about all of us. Someone from one of those four places sold us out."

Faith didn't like the thought. Even though there were four possibilities, only friends knew about them in those places. Or people she thought were friends. She had been the betrayer on many occasions in times past. She didn't care to be the one that was betrayed. She looked up at Celeborn, furious at the thought of such a betrayal. "Is there any way to be sure who?"

"I doubt it," the Elf Lord answered frankly. "Most likely the traitor is either from Imladris or among the Rangers. It was probably someone who passed through long ago."

Buffy sighed. "Is there anyway to narrow down who Sauron might have from the stories that are circulating?"

"We've already tried," Dawn said as she glanced down at her hands. "Assuming that this person was from a time within a few years of us falling through, there are still several possibilities. Most of them worse the one before."

Xander was the one who listed those names. "Possibilities like Angel, Wesley, Cordelia, Robin, Rona, Kennedy, Andrew, Vi, Caridad, Fred, Gunn."

Faith closed her eyes at the thought of any one of the people she cared about in Sauron's clutches. It made her physically sick.

"It could be one of the new Watcher recruits," Willow continued mechanically after Xander's voice trailed off. "Someone that studied about us if they're from later on. It just depends."

"But it's someone," Dawn completed the thought sadly.

Buffy set her jaw, determined. "Whether they're dead or not, we have to keep looking. Until we know for sure."

"I'm already at the Mirror twice a day trying," Dawn told her sister. "Willow is trying to write a new location spell. Xander and Spike have gone out half a dozen times taking Orcs prisoner, interrogating them. When you leave again, Spike already has a list of people to contact. We are trying, Buffy."

Faith wasn't anymore happy with their limitations than Buffy was. But they weren't as powerful as the legends of the Eldahini would suggest, and she best of everyone knew that. She looked up at Galadriel, unsure, and asked, "So what happens now?"

"Now, I believe, the time has come to discuss you taking your places in this world," Galadriel replied in her serious voice. "Somewhat more permanent places."

"I thought it might be," Giles murmured wryly.

"But…where?" Willow asked, a hint of fear in her voice. "How? What?"

"It is for you to decide," Celeborn admitted reluctantly. "But I would be lying if I said I do not hope you will choose to remain in Lórien."

Galadriel gave them an encouraging smile. "Even if you do not, you will forever have a home within these borders so long as any here endure."

"I vote Bree-land," Spike put in instantly. "We live as the Bree-folk, get a farm or some such in Staddle. We would be near all the main roads, could fight with the Dúnedain, be close enough to Rivendell if the Elves need us, and still live close to our own ways, minus a few hundred years of technology."

Giles listened to the suggestion carefully and paused for a moment while he thought it over before shaking his head. "I think that probably would have been the best choice before all of this stuff came out. But in Staddle, we'd be far from allies and out in the open. Besides, I think after a few hundred years, the Bree-folk wouldn't be able to pass us off as even some of the Dúnedain. I don't know how much of an option it is now."

Buffy shot the slightly disappointed former vampire a sympathetic half-grin. "Sorry, Spike. We know you like Bree-land."

"My vote is still in Gondor," Faith suggested. "I think we would fair better there than anywhere else. Plus, it's South, so, you know, more of a California climate."

"Same reasons exist not to go to Gondor same as Bree," Xander pointed out. "Actually, we'd be way farther away from allies, much closer to the Enemy, and not be able to pass ourselves off as pure Dúnedain there."

"Imladris is open to you," Elladan suggested lightly, though Faith knew better.

"Oh, goody, more Elves," Dawn muttered sarcastically.

Arwen's eyes slid over to the younger Summers. "Pardon me?"

Dawn reddened slightly and threw Arwen a nervous smile. "No offense."

"Rivendell has a smallish population of Mortals, though. And there's a lot of traffic in and out."

"I want to stay here," Willow suddenly argued.

Faith flinched. As much as she loved Lórien, she didn't want to spend her days hiding in the trees, especially if she had four hundred years worth of days left. "Will--"

"I know I should," Willow cut her off gently. "I just feel that I have so much I can still learn from Galadriel. Yeah, sure, I've got the basics of Elven magic down pat. I can even do some intermediate spell work. But given a decade or two, I could probably kick ass in the advanced column."

Giles shifted slightly so that instead of leaning against the doorframe he was now standing tall in front of them. "Something we need to keep in mind with this."

Xander turned to Giles and raised a brow at the older man's grave tone. "What would that be, G-man?"

"We will live to see the War," he replied simply.

With those seven simple words, Faith felt the air go out of her. She was frozen. She couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't do anything as she started to recall Xander, Willow, and Giles's warnings. Stories of a large scale war that would span the entirety of Middle-Earth, a war of apocalyptic proportions. A war that could conceivably be even worse than the war with the First.

She looked up to see the Elves watching them reservedly. Everyone else seemed to be taking in this revelation in stride, as if they had already realized it. Well, everyone except for Buffy, who seemed to be having some kind of massive stroke.

"Come, Estel," Celeborn said suddenly to Aragorn. "A room has been prepared for you. Tonight we will feast and you might all rest in peace."

Galadriel waited for Celeborn, Aragorn, Arwen, Elladan, and Elrohir to leave before turning to follow. She paused momentarily at the door on her way out and looked back at them. "We will leave you to your decisions."

Buffy Summers felt like she had been smacked. Really. She felt exactly like Glory had taken Olaf the Troll God's Hammer and beaten her about the head with it. It was not a happy feeling.

She had known for several hours at that point that she would most probably live for another six hundred to one thousand years. But never in those hours had she really taken just a second to process what that might mean for her future. She had been so concerned with ignoring the information that she had ignored one of the biggest consequences: that living six hundred more years would definitely mean that she'd be good to go in the twenty-five to fifty years it would take for Middle-Earth's war to end all wars to come about.

"Oh, shit," Faith muttered and raised a hand to rub her eyes. Apparently, someone was beating her about the head too.

Buffy glanced around at her friends. It was clear by their expressions that there had been varying degrees of the realization of this fact amongst them. From the full-out knowing and planning phase Giles seemed to be in to Buffy's shocked never-considered-it mindset. Faith seemed to be with her. Spike was closer to where Giles was. Willow had an expression that said she had realized but didn't really want to think about it. Xander seemed somewhere between that and the place where if he thought about it he might have a panic attack. Dawn seemed to be in the middle of suppressing said panic attack.

"We're not even sure that it's gonna happen soon," Dawn reasoned as she appeared to successfully quell her fear for the moment. "I mean, hell, it could be hundreds of years off."

Giles gave her a look that plainly said he knew she knew better. "Aragorn plays his part, you know that."

Buffy flinched as Dawn sighed in submission. Yeah, they all knew Aragorn played a part with the Fellowship. A fact that worried her like no other, as Aragorn was a good friend and all. But the denial would have been nice.

"I checked up with Gandalf on a few things, as well," Spike added as he considered them gravely. "Bloke by the name of Baggins is living in the Shire, starting to get on in years. A few years ago, his cousin or nephew or some such up and drowned. Had a kid that ole Bilbo's considering taking into his care. A boy. Called Frodo Baggins."

Xander closed his eyes and shook his head. "When that kid comes of age is when it'll start."

"So we basically have about…what?" Spike asked Xander, a calculating gleam in his eye. "Ten, twenty years?"

It was Willow that answered. "No, Hobbits are long lived. Their equivalent of eighteen is thirty-something. So we have more like thirty to forty years."

"So, we'll live to see the finding of the Ring," Dawn murmured as she looked out the window to the gleaming twilight of Caras Galadhon. "And the cloud of darkness that descends upon this realm because of It."

"We'll probably all still be as young as we are now," Xander added, bemused.

Faith snorted. "Unless something happens."

"Nothing will happen," Willow replied bitterly. "That's our luck. We'll all be fine and healthy to see hell come down upon this earth. And nothing is certain, we don't know what will happen…who will die…who will suffer fate worse than death. If Sauron will gain dominion."

Buffy shook her head, not being able to take it. "I can't do it."

"Buffy…" Giles started, his tone one that was gearing up for a lecture.

"I can't," she cut him off sharply. "I could live with the thought that…that I'd be an old woman…probably hiding out in Rivendell or Bree…pretending that nothing was happening, that we were all okay…I can't fight against Mordor."

"You don't have to," Giles said with a sympathetic and look in his eye. "None of us do."

Buffy almost laughed. "Right. Because I've proven in the past how well I can deal with walking away from a battle."

Dawn sighed and looked up at them. "Do you think…do you think that it will be as bad as we fear? Sauron is withered and his power is failed. It would be hard for a group to battle their way into Mordor, yes, but I don't understand how it might be as bad as all this."

Willow raised an eyebrow. "Say the name of the Dark Lord and the Dark Land again. And just feel."

"Sauron…" Dawn began, then trailed off as she closed her eyes and shivered.

"And the Dark Land?" Willow prodded knowingly.

Dawn sat back in her seat and crossed her arms in front of her defensively. "I don't feel like it."

Spike nodded once. "His strength is returning."

"Then let's do it now," Faith said suddenly, rising from her seat. "Now, before his full-strength has returned or he's had time to organize everything. We do it now, we don't wait for him to strike, we strike."

"Faith…" Willow started, but was cut off as Xander stood and gave Faith a dark look.

"That's not an option," he said in a voice that hardly left any room for discussion.

Faith blinked in surprise at his resolve. "Why?"

"So many things must happen first," Giles pointed out. "Things that can't happen for years."

"Like what?" Faith asked doubtingly. She didn't wait for an answer before continuing, "We get Gandalf and the twins and Haldir and his brothers and Aragorn, and we go. All of us. We go now and get it done."

"And risk failure?" Xander spat at her. "You think you could really handle what the Ring is all about?"

"Faith," Spike reasoned more gently, "you've spent more time with Aragorn than any of us. You really he is ready to be king? Because I'm here to tell you, ducks, he has some growing up to do, strange as it sounds."

"We all have darkness in us," Dawn said lowly. "Could we withstand the…"

"Lust," Xander finished in a whisper as he sank back down to his seat.

"I never thought I'd see the day when you guys admitted you couldn't do something," Faith admitted as she flopped back down in her seat.

"Do you know you can survive Sauron after the few years we've been here?" Xander asked as he stared at his hands, voice little more than a rough whisper. "Do you know what would happen if you were to fail? Are you willing to take that chance?"

He suddenly looked up and around at them, meeting each and everyone of their eyes as he said with conviction, "I'm not. I saw the where failure will lead. And trust me when I say it is not something we want to happen."

"I want to go home," Willow muttered under her breath.

"We can't go home," Buffy repeated the mantra she had been giving for the past three years as she threw Willow a firm but gentle look. "Accept it."

Willow sighed and nodded in concession before looking up at Giles. "So what do we do?"

Giles reached up and adjusted his glasses as he prepared himself for the speech they all knew was coming. They weren't disappointed. "We learn. We prepare. We know what might come, so we make ourselves ready. We also simply survive. Live life for there is no guarantee what might come next. We have the time to see that we are strong when the Shadow rears its head. And we will be."

Giles looked down at them all from where he stood They sat in the room

"My strength is my power as the Slayer," Buffy began slowly. She looked up at her friends, met their gazes and was confident in her choice. "I need to continue to learn to hone that power against evil here. I'm a Ranger. I will continue as a Ranger."

"And I."

Buffy looked to her left to Faith, not surprised by her fellow Slayer's decision. Faith nodded solemnly, her mind made up. " I'm a Ranger. It's who I am now. But it's not who Strider is supposed to be."

Buffy blinked as she realized what Faith was saying, the choice she was making. She was going to be a Ranger, yes, but she was saying she wouldn't necessarily be a Ranger with Buffy. Buffy was almost surprised at the disappointment she felt at Faith's decision, but she also saw the wisdom in it. Aragorn needed someone to help him no matter what that meant. Faith was the best choice for that role.

"I will go with Aragorn," Faith reaffirmed to the group. "See that he survives. My mission is to see him crowned king."

Spike nodded and slouched in his chair to rest his elbows on his knees. He clasped his hands as he regarded the two slayers seriously. "We've got a good thing going, the four of us. No need to break it up now."

Buffy smiled. While Faith would be Aragorn's partner, Spike would be hers. And they would work together as often as they could, probably most of the time. She smiled at the two. "We should stay together."

"I'm staying here," Willow announced suddenly. Everyone turned to her, not necessarily surprised at the witch's decision, but a little sad to hear the first definitive split off from the group.

Giles frowned as he regarded Willow carefully. "Are you sure, Willow?"

Willow hesitated a moment, then nodded, resolved. "Everyday I learn even more from Galadriel. The more I learn, the more useful I can be. Especially now, since it looks like we'll probably make it to see the Ring. Everyone is here is really nervous about it. Almost scared."

"The Elves are old enough to remember what it was like the first time Sauron was in power," Xander pointed out to his friend as he reached around to rest and arm around her shoulders. "It was a freak accident the guy didn't win."

Dawn snorted. "Well, Gandalf wasn't around last time, and he's more than a bit nervous as well."

Buffy smiled and nudged her sister's knee with her own. "What do you think of him?"

Dawn glanced over at her sister and returned her smile. "He's really nice. Like a wise old grandpa."

Buffy nodded. "I gotta talk to him. Miss the old man."

"He'll not be here for very much longer," Giles informed Buffy as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "He's going with the twins back to Imladris tomorrow morning."

"And I'll be going with them," Xander added very not slyly.

Willow turned sharply to look at her oldest friend, surprised at this sudden turn of events. "To Rivendell?"

Xander didn't look up at any of them, instead staring very firmly down at his shoe as he shrugged.

"Why?" Spike asked, just as surprised as the rest of them, which Buffy found odd since they shared a room and all.

Dawn regarded Xander calmly, as if she had expected some sort of radical announcement from him. "Where did this come from?"

"Like Giles said," Xander replied slowly, finally looking up at his friends. "We need to prepare. I've learned all I can patrolling borders and hiding in the trees. Haldir's given me the title of Marchwarden and he doesn't do that lightly. I need to move on from here. Learn the ways of the outside world if I'm going to fight for it."

"And you're friends with the twins," Faith pointed out with a smile.

Xander shrugged again. "Doesn't hurt. I've been talking with them about it for a while now. Lord Elrond needs the aid and Elrohir and Elladan want me to come with them. The Orcs are becoming bolder. They're venturing further and further from the mountains. It's starting to become dangerous, especially for the parties traveling West to the Havens. I was going to tell them no, but…with all this blood stuff…this is it. This is my time to move on."

Giles nodded reluctantly, then stood to regard the group. "This decision to make for Imladris comes at an odd time…because I will be heading that way as well."

Buffy blinked in surprise. "Giles?"

"I've been exchanging correspondence with Lord Elrond for years now," Giles explained calmly. "He has invited me to come and learn myself in the ways of his house and the ways of the outside world. I also have plans with Gandalf to visit Isengard with him. He seems to think this Saruman chap might be able to help us. And I want to go to Minas Tirith at some point. The libraries there are said to be…extensive."

Willow gave him a half-hearted smile. "Always the student, huh?"

He raised an eyebrow at the witch. "Well, I guess one might say knowledge is my power."

"Super Librarian," Xander was quick to quip.

Buffy nodded as she looked around at the group before her gaze finally came to Dawn. "Where will you go?"

Dawn licked her lips and sighed. "I've, uh…I've talked with Arwen before…about heading to Imladris. She seems to think we'd all be safer there. Probably true since it's farther West and all. But she doesn't want to leave until the last minute. I think that…when her father sends for her…I might go there. It'll probably be a few years. Give me time to learn a little more from Galadriel and Haldir. But it would be a bigger step towards the Mortals out there."

Buffy took this in silently for a moment before sighing. "We're separating."

Dawn gave her an 'I-told-you-so' look. "I told you it would happen. You didn't believe me."

"I didn't want to believe you," Buffy admitted.

"We all have our part to play," Willow offered. "This time, our parts aren't in the same places."

"Children, listen," Giles said firmly, calling all of their attention to him. "We were thrust into this world against our wills, well, most of our wills, and we have had to make the best of it. We have found places here, places where we will be able to fulfill our purposes. Yes, these places take us far from one another, but we are still family. Never believe otherwise."

"Yeah," Xander agreed with a sly grin. "We're the Eldahini."

"We're the Scooby Gang," Buffy corrected.

"And we'll always be a few days ride from one another," Willow said hopefully. "We'll see each other often."

Buffy nodded. "Yeah."

"Come on," Spike said as he pushed himself to his feet. "I can almost hear Celeborn pacing. Better tell them our decisions."

Willow Rosenberg giggled and shook her head. "Xander, come on, it's not that bad."

Dawn had to bite her lip not to burst out laughing as well. It was the most insane thing she had ever seen. Everyone was staring, astounded and amused. And she meant everyone. The poor stallion Galadriel and Celeborn had given Xander was even staring at him. And Xander was trying with all his might to throw himself up on the horse. Mostly he fell back down. A couple times he went up and over. It was even worse than Buffy had been her first time, though she now sat atop Shit with practiced ease.

Xander, disheveled and exhausted-looking whirled around to shoot the laughing redhead a furious glare. "Yes, it is! I'd like to see you do this, Miss A-Horse-Bit-Me-When-I-Was-Little."

Elladan and Elrohir were watching Xander try to mount his stallion with more than a little trepidation in their eyes. Dawn didn't blame them. They had offered and were taking Xander under their protection for the foreseeable future and thus were responsible for him during the ride to Imladris. It would be a hell of a couple of months.

"Rowinn," Elladan started carefully as Xander once again made a grab at the chestnut colored stallion, "how is it that you have dwelled in Middle-Earth for seven years and have not become proficient with a horse?"

"This is only the second time I've left, isn't it?" Xander murmured laboriously as he pushed himself up. "And the first time, we were on foot."

"Come, Rowinn, the night is passing," Haldir pointed out impatiently as he stepped forward once again to come to Dawn's equestrian-challenged family's aid. "Dawn approaches!"

Xander whirled around, confused. "Dawn's right over there."

Dawn rolled her eyes. "Xander, he meant _the_ dawn."

"Oh," Xander muttered as his face reddened further, already red from the exertion put forth into mounting the horse. "Right."

"On three," Haldir told the young man as he gabbed hold of Xander on one side and the twins took position further around.

"Hey."

Dawn turned away from the struggle of getting Xander on a horse to face Buffy. She along with Aragorn, Spike, and Faith had already said their goodbyes. They only waited now for Xander. The plan was for the four of them to accompany Gandalf, Giles, Xander, and the twins out of Lothlórien and north. From there, Aragorn, Buffy, Spike, and Faith would turn east to work out some dealings Aragorn needed to make with the Men of Lake-town, while the others would continue to the High Pass and then to Rivendell.

Dawn looked up at her sister, wondering what more could be said. "What?"

"If you change your mind about getting out of this place, send me a line," Buffy said simply.

Dawn smiled and nodded. "Will do."

"Buffy, come on!"

The sisters turned to see Xander had been effectively tied to the horse and that the group was now waiting on the blonde Slayer.

Dawn smiled at her sister. Buffy returned it sadly. "Namárië."

"I refuse to say goodbye," Dawn told Buffy, before glancing up to regard the group as a whole. "Goodbye means gone. You guys aren't gone, just a little out of reach."

Giles smiled at the youngest Summers and nodded his agreement. "True, Dawn. We will meet again."

Willow came up and wrapped an arm around Dawn's shoulders, grinning brightly at the rest of their family. "And it better be soon."

Xander nodded at his oldest friend reassuringly. "It will be."

"Rupert, Alexander, come."

Gandalf was not by any means a patient man. Dawn rolled her eyes and nodded to them. "See ya later."

Giles grabbed the reigns of Xander's horse and together they headed for the gates.

"That's our cue," Faith called to Buffy.

Buffy nodded at her sister-slayer then turned to her actual sister. She hesitated. "Dawn--"

"Just go" Dawn said firmly. "I don't like goodbyes."

"Later, Nibblet," Spike called as he turned his own horse.

"We'll be back to see you soon," Buffy's words echoed as she rode out the gates. "We'll come back soon, I promise."

And with that, they went.

Willow and Dawn stared after them until long after the other elves had gone back to their daily business. Eventually, Willow sighed. "Come on, Dawnie. Let's go find Arwen."

Dawn nodded as the redhead's presence faded behind her. She wrapped her arms around herself, chilled now that Willow had retreated up to the talan. After a few moments of lingering she turned, ready to start a new chapter in her own life. She started down the main path into the city, turning off to the side to the path that led to Haldir's. she needed to talk to someone, and her old friend was always there for her, that she knew. Plus his patrol didn't start for another couple of hours, leaving them plenty of time to find something sweet to eat--

Dawn turned to cut across a particular brushy area, a shortcut she always used that would have saved her ten minutes walking around. And she was immediately blocked by a figure.

She looked up, startled. And she was even more stunned to see who she saw. "Elrohir?"

She had watched him leave almost twenty minutes before, but there he was, alone and horseless, as if he had been waiting for her. He motioned her to be calm and quiet as he pulled her even further from the main paths and into a solitary corner of the city.

He stopped in the middle of the brush and turned her so that she was backed against a mallorn trunk facing him. She gazed up at him, not understanding what he was trying to prove. Then he stepped closer, so close they were almost touching, in a clear invasion of her personal space.

Dawn was too shocked for words as Elrohir stood before her, so close the heat was practically radiating between them. She took a long deep breath as she fought the connection that once again started to come alive between them, fighting against it until it was buried in her subconscious…where it belonged.

Elrohir watched her do this without a word. When she finally was composed enough to speak with him she looked up to shoot him an annoyed glare. But the expression on his face was far from any other expression she had ever seen on him. It was not arrogant, or angry, or impatient, or mean-spirited, or spiteful, or pained, or hurt, or anything in between. It was slightly amused, patient, kind, happy, calm, mostly wondrous, with a small bit a fire fueling it. He used her temporary hesitation at seeing this and reached out with both of his bare hands and placed them gently on her bare forearms. It was an intentional move, for they had not touched so since the day they had met on Cerin Amroth. There had always been something between them, always, be it a glove or clothing or a person. But now they were there in a patch of brush along the border of the city, skin to skin.

The reaction was instantaneous, just as it had that day they had met. It was burning electric, complete and whole, longing, lust, perfection. She gasped as it worked its way through her, arms shifting to grasp desperately at Elrohir's own bare arms. When she did it was like she had closed a circuit and everything inside her intensified as the rest of the world fell away, leaving only him, her, and the connection fervently burning between them.

He stepped even closer again until he was practically on top of her. She trembled as his larger frame enveloped hers and fought the urge to just collapse into him. He smirked and leaned down slightly so that their faces were merely inches apart.

"You have six hundred years of life left in this body," he murmured softly, his voice silky and passionate and confident and knowing, a calm and warming tone that she so loved. "A finite time in my infinite world."

She gazed up at him as the connection thrived between them. "Elrohir, I--"

"Listen, Meluiell," he cut her off gently but firmly. "You will listen. Thirty years it took my sister to deal with her emotions concerning Estel, thirty years to know her heart. I will give you half the span of your human lifetime to know your heart. Fifty years, for I need the time as well."

Dawn could hardly believe what she was hearing, what Elrohir seemed to be saying. She knew she couldn't have understood him correctly. She knew it wasn't possible. But it was happening all the same.

Elrohir chose that moment to release his grip on her arms. She almost cried out, not wanting the intense feelings inside to fade. But she instantly realized with relief that they didn't fade, but seemed to grow stronger. She looked up at him in confusion and saw in his eyes a barely contained joy burning within them. And she understood. He had offered her the feelings. She had not only accepted them, but admitted to herself, and through the connection to him, that she wanted the feelings, wanted him. She knew then that this really was the beginning of a new chapter, one that would apparently last fifty years if what he was saying was true.

She leaned forward into him slightly and he took the invitation, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her flush against him. Her hands moved up to grasp his shoulders as his free hand moved up to cup her neck. He smiled down at her, looking straight into her eyes, offering her a glimpse into his soul. "What you feel now, it is not knowledge for you. This is the connection, this is lust. It is a first step, just the first down a path of many. You still have much to work through before you know. But whatever you may think you know, you shall know this, child. Everyday of these fifty years I will long for you. I love you, Dawn."

Her breath was coming shallowly and she was dizzy. She didn't know why. She heard the words and almost couldn't believe them, but looking into his eyes, into his soul, she saw the truth in him. And the fact that he used her real name and not the one Haldir had given her, the meaning was not lost upon her. She didn't know what to say, how to reply to such a shocking revelation. She opened her mouth, but there were no words. She could feel the burning of tears in her eyes, for she was indeed moved to them, but for the life of her, she could not find the words.

"Shh," he soothed softly, lightly tracing the line of her jaw with his thumb. "Don't. Do not say what you do not know. I know you are frightened."

She shook her head forcefully, for that she knew. "I'm not scared of you--"

"No," Elrohir agreed with her, smile broadening. "I know you do not fear me. But you do fear this. You are young and innocent. And the pain of your sister, her experience with her love…it weighs heavy on you. You need this time. That is why I leave you."

She blinked quickly, feeling a great swell of sadness as she remembered that he was leaving, had actually already left. His smile faltered momentarily as he felt the impending loss as well, but he shook his head. "Nothing can harm you here, Dawn, or I would not go," he explained. "I will always protect you. Protecting you now means protecting your family abroad."

She nodded, again not able to find the words to express what she felt. Instead she let the connection speak for her, something she knew he would understand better.

He did. His arm tightened around her and his hand came up to rest on her cheek. She felt his love surrounding her, could see it in his eyes. "You are so young," he murmured as he simply gazed on her. "So beautiful. Wise. Powerful."

The kiss she had hoped would come came. She didn't know who started it and she didn't care. Her eyes slid shut and she raised her arms to wrap around his neck, to hold him close as he held her. It was soft and it was completing. She felt safe and loved and free as his lips moved against hers. He was there, with her, and she knew he was supposed to be, would always be if she would just let him. He was to be her shelter, her protector, her lover.

It slowly grew momentum, more wild, more desperate. And though her lungs began to burn, she didn't want it to end. For she knew the moment they broke apart that he would leave her and her fifty years of solitude would begin. And though she agreed with him that they desperately needed the time apart, she knew she didn't want it. But the end came.

He released her, gasping as he did. She kept her eyes closed as he slowly slid away, not able to bear watching him go again.

"Fifty years," he whispered in her ear. "Then I will come fore you, wherever you may be."

With the wind he was gone. She was alone when she opened her eyes. And she almost would have believed she had dreamed it, if not for the elanor he had somehow placed in her hands.

She sighed. It was going to be a long fifty years.

---

Timeline:

June, 2979, Fall to Lórien, Chapter One

July, 2979, Arrival of Arwen Undomiel, Chapter Seven

Circa September 1, 2979, The Scooby Gang is fostered by Celeborn and Galadriel, Chapter Ten

June, 2980, Arrival of Aragorn, Chapter Eleven

Circa June 21, 2981, Buffy, Spike, and Faith leave Lórien with Aragorn, Chapter Fourteen

Circa July 18, 2981, Buffy, Spike, and Faith meet Gandalf the Grey, Chapter Fifteen

Circa July 20, 2981, Buffy, Spike, and Faith arrive in Rivendell for the first time and meet Lord Elrond, Chapter Sixteen

Circa June 21, 2982, Arrival of Elladan and Elrohir, Chapter Eighteen

Circa August 1, 2983, Buffy, Spike, and Faith are fully inducted as Rangers of the North, Chapter Nineteen

Halloween, 2983, Sauron opens a Portal through Dawn, Chapters Twenty through Twenty-Three

December, 2983, Spike returns to Lórien, Chapter Twenty-Four

April, 2984, Elladan first hears the Tales of the Eldahini, Chapter Twenty-Five

July, 2984, Xander is given a glimpse of the future by Anya via the Mirror, Chapter Twenty-Six

August, 2984, Xander goes with Elladan, Elrohir, Haldir, Orophin, and Jarnel to Dol Guldor, Chapters Twenty-Seven through Twenty-Eight

October, 2984, Buffy and Faith return to Lórien; The End, Chapter Thirty

---

A/N: That's it! Nuvalmet Lain is finished! Of course, the sequel will be up shortly. Look for it under the title "Úthaes o Gwador'Nín" which translates to "The Temptation of My Brother"…sorta. This one will be more of a Giles-centric story, although not entirely. And no, it's not set fifty years later. That would be too easy. Instead, it will be set seventeen years later.

I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please, don't forget to leave a final **REVIEW** of the story.


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